Merlin - Not Arthur - Merlin
by Weaving Bard
Summary: Friendship/Bromance/Handsome Gwaine being Handsome/Arthur being Arthur/Merlin being perfect - No Slash - Complete
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Gwen's been sent away. Aggravaine is the favorite uncle at the time.**

**I do not own Merlin – this is fan fiction. **

* * *

It was just another one of those nights when all seems peaceful, but it was only peaceful for everyone who wasn't a secret Warlock destined to save Camelot. Merlin sighed, feeling a bit sorry for himself, as he scurried down the servant's passage ways, through the public hearing area, and out a window. He barely could hang onto the grout that rest between the big shiny white stone work of the castle wall, but Gods forbid if he ever got caught spying on anyone using Arthur's window. He could be warm. He could be that much closer to discovering what it was he needed to know so that he could devise a plot, get to bed, and maybe just maybe wake up in time for breakfast before he ended this nonsense.

It wasn't long until he found himself underneath the window where guests of Uther's were discussing something that sounded like – well honestly – nothing at all that suspicious. Merlin wasn't impressed with them, but he couldn't afford to relax. He couldn't leave the future to chance. He had tried to live life one step at a time and take things as they come, or what ever Gaius was preaching on about, oh yah, patience, but no it would never be enough. Thankfully, he was nearly invisible in this disguise though and he was very proud of himself, even though he was pretty sure he had somehow picked up a flea or two.

He wrinkled his long nose while thinking of the vast amount of time he had been putting in just trying to keep the place tidy, but no Arthur had to be a pig. He had to throw things and make messes. He did it on purpose. He was a complete brat and a prat and tended to have the attention span of a fruit bat.

Ah, but only the Gods knew just how much Merlin felt anxious. It was hard enough saving everyone all the time without getting caught, but the hardest part was... He sniffled at the air and clenched his teeth. A reflexive tremble shook his frame as a heady scent of sweetness wafted over him. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was strong!

"Damn this form, the senses are extra sharp!" thought Merlin as he repressed running full out all the way home to hide under his bed.

He swiveled his head and listened. It was just conversation and honestly if these people were any good they would at least say what needed to be said. If they were innocent they should have the decency to say something interesting, but no! These royal types were so disgustingly predictable. The visiting King and his son were just chatting. They did not behave as badly as most, but they were just as dull and just as greedy. Most of the neighboring kingdoms that Uthur had some kind of agreement with had visited to "check in" on the stability of Camelot. Their conversation wasn't pleasant, the son wasn't good enough. He didn't measure up when compared to Arthur. Prince To Much Padding On His Ass wasn't trying hard enough! Same song, different tune or is it different song same tune? Merlin wasn't sure – nor did he care.

"_So nothing is going on? No betrayal? No secret plan?"_ thought Merlin as he turned his body around on the narrow windowsill, his little bottom brushing against the glass. He paid no attention to the edge of the windowsill. He did not look down. Instead, he scurried along as quickly as he could, lost in his thoughts. Honestly, he was bewildered. It had been some time since there had been a secret plot against the kingdom and quiet, while nice, made him jumpy.

"_I've polished the armor, mucked out the stables, and walked the dogs. I brushed down his jackets. I shined the buttons, mended the armpit holes, and washed all his laundry. His boots are clean, his __floor is clean, his wardrobe is dusted, and his linens are changed. The fire is stoked. He has a night time snack and drink. I pampered the horses, checked their hooves, checked his riding gear, and sharpened his swords."_ Merlin went through his mental to do list as he raced towards home as he listened and sniffed almost hysterically as he ran. The truth was that going over his chores mentally calmed him a bit, a habit that he wasn't sure was all that healthy – however calm was the goal. The listing of his daily accomplishments extended into Gaius's extensive herbal yearnings and Merlin was quite the Botanical Bounty Hunter. His delicate frame swaying slightly as his legs sped even faster. His heart was racing. It really would not be good to get caught.

As he came up to a corner, he paused and nervously darted a few nervous glances left and right and left again. Something didn't seem right. He fought the urge to blindly charge ahead at full speed, and later – he would wish that he had. Unfortunately he had not looked behind him and did not expect a very sleepy but hungry Prince Arthur to grab him up by his tail and dangle him at arms length.

"_It hurts! It hurts! Damn you Arthur, I already put you to bed! Why are you up?" _squeaked Merlin with all his might as he twisted and turned as he dangled dangerously from Arthur's fingertips. The view was awful as well, from this distance, at this size, Arthur's nasal passages were huge.

"You are a pathetic looking rat. Long, thin, and just gawky," Arthur chuckled at Merlin who squeaked indignantly cursing Arthur out masterfully in rat. "Good news is, you are so skinny I doubt my manservant, no matter how hunger he gets or how low our stocks get, will serve you to me as soup, but the bad news is..." Arthur turned sharply and walked down a dark hallway.

Merlin considered biting his Prince, just for being an arse. He felt sick as the world went by way to fast and blurry for him to get a hold of where he was and of course, Arthur wasn't being careful or gentle.

"The bad news is, friend," Arthur smirked and Merlin bristled at the word friend, "You get to live in the dungeons and torture the criminals for me. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of toes and fingers to nibble on." That was the send off that Arthur gave Merlin before he threw him down past the stone steps into a pile of rotting hay.

Merlin didn't move even after the dungeon door had been shut. He DID remember to lay out Arthur's midnight snack, did the glutton already eat it and plan on raiding the kitchens? "_How FAT was the PRAT going to get?"_

Merlin sighed and not for the first time, wondered sincerely why the hell he even bothered with this anymore?

* * *

Merlin flung the curtains wide open to allow a glorious amount of sunlight into the royal chambers of Prince Arthur – The Toad, or rather was a toad in Merlin's dreams last night. A large, cool skinned, spotted, warty, toad. Fat. Slow. A toad made for target practice and the sky was filled with birds that eat toads. Falcons. Merlin woke up stressed.

"Time to get up, Sire." Merlin said as cheerfully as possible. "Lots to do. Lots of Princely things to attend. There are knights that need bullying. Maids that need flirting with, the servants need demoralizing, and of course - you need your _exercise._" Wincing slightly as he said exercise put even more emphasis on the word, but Merlin was more than a little angry with Arthur at the moment.

The Once and Future King grumbled, ignored his servant and rolled over.

"...I know it's tempting to stay in bed. Gravity is such a hard thing to fight, but fight it you must. It might end up the one thing you cannot defeat," Merlin voice was so brightly toned it was almost musical. He knew it would annoy Arthur and that he was risking getting reprimanded, but he was still angry about being tossed in the dungeons.

The servants long legs carried him to the side of his precious prince in no time, he looked at the mass of limbs, sheets, covers, and pillows without one ounce of pity. His eyes flickered briefly as he took hold of the mattress as he lifted. A satisfying, thump from the other-side of the bed rewarded him for his efforts as he rolled the royal out of bed.

"_MER_LIN!"

Merlin smugly stalked over to his target, "I see you remember my name, Sire. Welcome to the day. Your breakfast is slowly getting cold, Sire." His hands were hooked behind his back. Head straight but eyes were turned down – locked with Arthur's. The Prince scowled at his servant.

"You are NOT to wake me in that manner!" complained the Prince.

"Sire, your breakfast? After you feed, then you can start the demoralizing. You do need to keep your strength up. You wouldn't want to faint from the effort!" Merlin did not even bend to help Arthur off the floor. His tone was formal, colder than his forced cheery wake up tone. He pointed to the table with a long boney finger with an expression that someone in the room – stank.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

Takes Place during for 4th season - out of sync in order to feed the plot. Any non-cannon characters that show up are merely plot tools and will have short appearances. They are not permanent. I know, it sounds like a bad author's note - however I don't want anyone to anticipate more from a plot tool. Think of them as a guest star for an episode? I don't not own Merlin. Merlin is not my property. I will be buying the DVDs when they are available in a pretty box set. It is my hope that you enjoy this story - I worked very hard on this plot. Any and all feedback is appreciated - as my writing attempt here is experimental.


	2. Chapter 2

King Pads-His-Shoulders and his son Prince Too-Much-Padding-On-His-Ass, were scheduled to stay at the palace for a month. Thankfully, they brought with them enough staff to offset the sudden spike in demand that would have been placed on the already over stressed workforce that strained to keep the Camelot royals comfortable. As far as royals went, they were typical. Nothing about them stood out as unique, but that did not mean that they were not ignorable.

Merlin had personally spied.. errr.. checked out each member of the visiting kingdom. That is to say he went through their things, listened to their conversations, secretly followed them around, and of course chatted each one up to see if they made him feel creeped out in any way. It was not that he felt that he was a great judge of character. If history had anything to show for it, he was a lousy judge of character. He couldn't tell the difference between the attraction of his magic to someone's magic and the attraction of his good soul to that of another good soul. However, he had grown a sense of paranoia and that was helping him filter who or what might need special attention.

Most of the servants from the other kingdom were very nice, those who weren't nice - were at the very least professionally polite. There was no one who stood out magically. There was no one who had taken to the shadows as a lurker. No one had made any strange inquiries.

What bothered Merlin the most was that, most of the visitors had blended into Camelot far easier than he ever did when he had first started working for the Prince. It was hard to think about things like this. It was hard to allow himself into certain mental pathways because of the lack of discipline involved. He had no doubt that maybe if magic were allowed in Camelot that maybe he'd know his own mind better, but it wasn't. Therefore he didn't dare allow his mind to wonder about things like possibilities.

He used to, but experience taught him that he shouldn't. If he were distracted, his magic might act. If he felt strongly about something, his destiny might react for the good or for the worse. He wasn't allowed to deviate and therefore he also felt like he wasn't allowed to think over his own situation. He just had to play it out. The last time he tried for happiness...

Merlin shook his head violently to clear his thoughts before his emotions could spiral out of control and lifted a tray held high above his head. He swiveled and swerved through the bustling bodies of what he thought were Camelot's finest. His thin frame was made for dodging over eager servants who were also hellbent in fulfilling their master's wishes.

Arthur might have thought it was his blood stained knights, but in his servant's eyes – it were these mere servants who were his fellow comrades that kept Camelot running. They were were blood and nerve network that the armored ones protected. They were fragile, but they were so much more important without them working as well as they did – well Arthur and Uther would .. be.. inconvenienced until they found replacements.

Merlin scowled but then a pretty maid brush by his chest and a reflexive grim blossomed to greet her. "_Brunette, full-bodied, dimpled and smells really nice..." _– he tore his eyes from her retreating figure as he dashed down the remainder of the rapidly emptying servant hallway. He had merely moments to get his employer his afternoon yum-yums.

* * *

Merlin quietly turned the knob of the door without opening the door, squared his shoulders, and then used his foot to kick the door semi forcefully open. If he was going to serve another with his life and be denied the happiness that others found so easily - he was going to show a bit of backbone. Destiny might have made him a servant, but he was going to be damned if he was going to be a boot-licker.

"Time to eat, Sire. Before you ask, I've already mucked out the stables, polished your armor, walked your dogs, sharpened your sword, and mended yet another pair of hunting gloves," Merlin kept his voice formal yet again as he droned through the list of things he had already accomplished for his late-night snack-sneaking pain in the ass prince. To punctuate that the meal was ready to be devoured without ceremony - he half slammed, half placed the Prince's food in front of the presently merciless future monarch. Merlin then sharply turned on the spot and started cleaning Arthur's room.

Arthur was speaking and Merlin wasn't listening. He was cleaning. He wasn't tidying. He was really cleaning. He stripped the bed and threw the linens into the basket and then started scurrying around the room picking items off the floor. Arthur had a tendency to throw things, anything, when he was cross. Arthur tended to be cross more than he was thoughtful, which of course meant more work for Merlin.

"Merlin. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Are you even listening to me? What is wrong with you? Is there something wrong with your brain?" the Prince demanding answers for the most obvious things was really starting to grate on Merlin's nervous system.

"I'm cleaning, Arthur. I am in charge of your chambers, if you haven't forgotten. Once you're done stuffing yourself, you are expected in your father's chambers. His man informed me when I was putting your delicious mid day feast together," the sentences were punctuated with clothing being removed – item by item – from Arthur's wardrobe. The items he was choosing were not dirty, but needed attention nevertheless. The side seams needed letting out and resewing to accommodate Arthur's slowly expanding waist and with a little bit of magic, Merlin felt like getting it done before he was asked to do it – might spare Arthur a huge amount of embarrassment.

It was one thing to tease the Prince, it was another to try to work with a humiliated Prince who was vain, prattish, and who tended to take his frustrations out on other people.

"I need to reorganize your things, even though I'm supposed to be the one who dresses you and therefore you'd think I'm the only one who goes through your wardrobe. Somehow, maybe in the night, things rearrange themselves inconveniently," muttered Merlin knowing full well that Arthur was to blame. He chanced an accusing look at the royal who was still stuffing his face with slices of pork folded over his fork and dripping in gravy.

Arthur laughed smugly, "You're not the only one who looks through my clothes. Occasionally I do. There are times my father asks me if I want something new. I cannot answer him if I don't know what I want."

_Royals and their clothes. _ Merlin rolled his eyes with his back turned to Arthur. It wouldn't matter soon. Gaius had told Merlin that Uther's state of mind was failing further day by day. His depression that followed Morganna's betrayal and attack, had literally broken his heart. There weren't many days when he was lucid and when he was, he smothered Arthur with affection. He acted childish and fearful. Merlin wouldn't shed a tear for Uther - when that maniac finally died, but he probably would for Arthur's heartbreak.

Merlin's mind fluttered to Balinor and once again, he forced personal thoughts out of his mind.

"I need to gather herbs and important supplies for Gaius," Merlin informed his employer.

Arthur's laugh was delighted and his reply was laced with phrases about "flower picking" and Merlin "was such a girl" and "what's the truth about your dainty hobbies" and "a scrawny thing like you is perfect for that job." However, when Merlin did not insult Arthur back – the Prince lost interest in the word game and finished the last of the bread and cheese.

"You may help Gaius, but be sure to be at dinner tonight. As long as we are entertaining guests, I want to make sure we put our best foot forward. That said, you should wear something that isn't so – worn."

Arthur rose from his chair and then went to see his father, but not without giving his servant a few more insults and a long lengthy list of things to do. Instead of his usual cheeky remarks, Merlin just nodded and kept working. The moment the door clicked closed – the bottomless ocean blue eyes of the young warlock changed into fiery golden spheres for as long as two breaths.

Spills, splotches, and filth rose in a gray haze off of the surfaces of the room and pulsed three times before shimmering silver and blue. Items returned to where they should have been instead of where the Prince had casually abandoned them. The air of the room was purified. Hours of work, done. However there was still more. There was always more, and it was more that he couldn't do with magic in the Prince's very own chambers.

Merlin heaved the laundry basket to his chest and hurried along making a mental note to give Arthur a bath. He really did stink and maybe a proper soak would improve that greasy feeling that Merlin was getting when ever he was around him. Merlin, feeling stressed, still had Gaius's list and that was far more important than Arthur's. He couldn't take to long getting those precious supplies.

* * *

Merlin dumped the majority of Arthur's laundry and clothes in his room before grabbing up his gathering bag. If it weren't for the face that some of his magical experiments required herbs, they wouldn't be low on some essential supplies. However shape shifting wasn't fun, but it did make spying on people that much easier. If there was anyone he could talk to about magic he would say that there were so many other spells, runes, and charms that he wanted to try out.

Gaius made it plain that he shouldn't be experimenting so openly and he laced his speeches with guilt trips so there was much that Merlin just could not talk about even if it was just wishes. Half the things he wanted to do, he couldn't afford. He only was paid a penny a week, but he had the privilege of not having to pay for housing. He paid that through service to Gaius as an unofficial apprentice and that small fact was something that Arthur conveniently ignored. Despite all Merlin wanted to do with the money, he sent a portion of it to his mother. Once a month, without fail – he sent her a package of something from Camelot with a penny so that she could buy something that she needed.

Last month, Merlin had sent her raisins.

Grabbing a list of essentials, plus a small purse of coins, Merlin dashed out of the physicians quarters without grabbing the apple his mentor left for him. His mind was to full to notice his empty stomach even though his body was fatigued from the constant personal neglect.

The last items, alcohol and vinegar, would be a pain. There were many people who made them but they were not friendly and tended to try to cheat a few coins from Merlin's purse even though it was for Gaius. Everyone eventually got sick or wounded, and for that reason alone Merlin thought the people would treat the elderly man with more respect.


	3. Chapter 3

A Day of Tears and Truths

* * *

_At the Tavern..._

Gwaine was a great friend. The best. He was the bestest friend anyone, especially a magical misfit could ever have. And wouldn't you know how lucky anyone could be to even know Gwaine? Gwaine's such a wonderfully loyal friend. No one deserves Gwaine. Gwaine's so good. About the magic though, he didn't know it. He knew about the friend part, because Merlin had been telling him that over and over while hugging his dear friend and rubbing a wet cheek into a well trimmed and handsome beard. Words of friendship and regret bubbled out of the secret Warlock last hour or so as Gwaine tried to drown the warlock's sorrows. He didn't know about the magical part and that was why he was so confused because Merlin kept saying, "I'm sorry I'm such a lousy friend to you, Gwaine. I'm...I'm not worthy of such a great friend. I'm awful. I'm … I'm so sorry."

The knights were used to Gwaine buying drinks. He always tried his best to liquidize both happiness and sorrow. He'd been trying for years to get Merlin to have more than just a responsible amount of alcoholic fortification, but the boy always had work to do for somebody. Merlin never seemed to stop working and the knight's joked that he was probably saving all his money to buy his own kingdom some day – since he never seemed to spend very much at all.

It was an unspoken rule that Gwaine was there for anyone who needed him, but to any one who might be watching - he always displayed a soft spot for the Prince's manservant.

It was surprising to see Merlin at the tavern tonight. There was no way that his normal amount of duties hadn't doubled. With the King ill, Uther still had visitors and it was up to Arthur to manage everything. Lord Aggravaine had come to assist Arthur, but from a knight's point of view – the man just wasn't that helpful. The kingdom was in a constant buzz of political movement and reassurances that Camelot was doing well. Arthur was handling the pressure. Uther might recover. Camelot was well defended. Arther had been well prepared for this. Camelot was still financially stable. Arthur knew what he was doing and he did have his uncle there to help juggle who to smile at and who to ignore and for how long.

Uther requested Arthur's presence like a child would demand it's parent. He wanted hugs and to hear his son say words of devotion. He wanted to hear that Arthur was still his son and that he hadn't decided to join the magical community and start living in a hovel with some druid.

The knights knew that Arthur had been placing more and more pressure on Merlin, and while the skinny servant was good-natured and pleasant – they thought that it was a bit much for one person to handle. Merlin didn't do any extra complaining. That doesn't mean he did not do his usual amount of moaning, but he wasn't showing signs of – well having a nervous break down. Therefore, no one said anything about it. There wasn't a reason to say anything. Camelot was functioning and even if it was running a little bumpy at least they weren't going on sorcerer head hunts every other day.

The angelic looking, Leon at first had been amused as a depressed and red-eyed Merlin had been dragged into the tavern by Gwaine. The tall skinny young man looked a little lost and as if he should be holding Gwaine's hand in a "my big brother brought me in here don't hurt me" kind of way. Leon had never seen Merlin look timid before and had just written it off as someone is having a very bad day and Gwaine has once again come to the rescue. It wasn't the first time Gwaine had drug someone to the tavern and it wouldn't be the last.

It wasn't until later on when Percival, the giant of a man that he was, had nudged him not-so-gently in the ribs to point to the corner of the tavern where Gwaine and Merlin were drinking alone that Leon had begun to sincerely worry about Merlin. From the way Merlin was behaving, he hadn't accidentally rubbed a hole in a boot or spilled ink on a speech. No, the boy looked defeated. Gwaine's had moved his chair over so that Merlin could cry on his shoulder. The fun loving knight was patting the servant on the shoulder and the both of them, if possible, were wearing matching unhappy faces. Merlin was scrubbing at his eyes with dirty hands, whimpering - when Gwaine pulled him to his feet.

Leon wanted to say, "Gaius is going to kill you." He wanted to tease Gwaine. He wanted to pull Merlin to his table and pinch his thin face til he smiled, but those usually bright eyes were dull. There was something terribly wrong that a joke could not chase away and as much as he wanted to step in and help – he'd leave it to Gwaine to be the shining one tonight. He'd get Gwaine to tell him tomorrow what had happened to the manservant. Leon held his breath as the two brushed by his table. Gwaine purposefully did not meet his eyes, instead he kept telling Merlin that he would be fine, everything would be okay, and that Merlin was his best mate.

They staggered out together. Merlin apologizing all the while. He kept declaring Gwaine's greatness, but denounced himself, and his own stupidity. His thin frame swaying dangerously under the influence of drink, he clung to the knight and mashed his face against a sturdy shoulder. He carried a very heavy cloth bag that he had slung over his shoulder and kept patting the bag over and over again.

Leon felt a cold lump forming in his stomach. There was something about seeing Merlin so out of character, so depressed, and vulnerable – it felt like an omen.

* * *

_Earlier that day..._

Gwaine was very handsome when the sun was shining. He was handsome when the sun wasn't shining but the light helped people get a better look at him. He was also extremely handsome when he was happy. So that meant that he was at his most handsome on his days off when the sun was out, because he was happy and so very viewable.

It was very hard to look so good and leave the looking glass, but he had to spread his beauty around.

As Camelot's most handsomest knight, it was part of his duty to stroll through Camelot before going to the tavern. He liked looking through the stalls and flirting with the women. He liked seeing the children running around with flowers threaded through their braids and buttons. He enjoyed being able to show off his athletic frame when it wasn't encased in cumbersome armor.

Sure, Camelot had its problems and most of them stemmed from Uther, but quite honestly all places were imperfect, but here he had made friends. He had made himself friends with the greatest person he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. Merlin. That kid was amazing and he had a way of making Gwaine want to fight for something and someone. He had such a great "can do" attitude as well

He had been thinking of his favorite person in all of Camelot when he came across him and his heart dropped because his reality began to waver. Gwaine had found Merlin sitting dejectedly with his back to the palace walls. He was fumbling with the strap of his cloth bag that was full of herbs, bottled goods, grease, waxes, and other goodies. The only part of the boy's face that was clean were two tracks where tears had washed away some grit.

"Merlin!" greeted Gwaine his eyes dancing in delight as he looked at his favorite person in Camelot even though the boy was a mess. He was the prince's manservant after all and probably went through more than anyone else on a daily basis. The smile on his face faltered a bit when Merlin raised red rimmed eyes and sniffled. A smile flashed and he croaked out, "G-Gwaine!" There had never been a more anemic attempt at "gee, it's good to see you" in the history of mankind.

Gwaine squatted down in front of Merlin. who once again had decided that his worn cloth bag was the most fascinating thing in the world. and tried to get his friend to open up to him. Merlin's fingers were dancing over the fabric in a haphazard pattern. His hands were dirty, his nails were broken, and there was a dustiness to his overall appearance.

"You okay, Merlin? Has anyone hurt you?" Gwaine asked softly as his eyes looked over the thin body looking for scratches or bruising. Finding nothing obviously wrong other than clear signs of distress, did nothing to ease his mind for his friend's state of well being.

Merlin just shook his head and mouthed the word no. His eyes a little wild. A tear escaped and he began to pant.

Gwaine hooked his friend under his elbow and hauled him to his feet. He brushed his clothing down as gently as he could. He didn't scold Merlin for being dirty or comment about it. He just did what he thought he should do. Merlin had an odd sense of pride and decorum. In many ways, he acted more regal than the Pendragons. He had a sense of honor that would rival most blue bloods.

"Tavern. Medicinal reasons," Gwaine explained as his friend stood with hunched shoulders and a guarded expression.

"Gwaine, I-I-I-can't," stuttered the trembling warlock in servant's clothing.

"Merlin, I'm buying. We're going. You're having a drink. You don't have to tell me what's wrong, but I would like it if you would," said Gwaine with a voice that teetered between pleading and commanding. Merlin trembled as if he were a deer faced with a crossbow, but Gwaine wasn't just going to let him go when he looked like that. He wasn't going to let Merlin go knowing that Merlin would never go home to Gaius looking like that. He would have stayed out all night until he could fake happiness or slip in while his mentor was asleep.

* * *

_Taking a Drunk Merlin Home..._

It wasn't difficult to get Merlin to his Mentor's door. In fact, Gwaine had never met a more polite and cooperative drunk. Merlin was an absolute sweetheart. He knew that his friend had a heart of gold, but he never realized that the wise cracking Merlin was actually painfully polite, contrite, and a hugger. He even stopped to hug some of the other servants that they ran into along the way and apologize for being clumsy or dimwitted. Most of the people he hugged had giggled and pushed him back into Gwaine.

Gwaine liked getting people hammered so that he could see their true natures. Some people were violent, others were disgusting, some silly, and many were just scumbags. Very few were laid back like him, but hardly anyone was like Merlin. Sure, there were some who were polite. Some who were huggers. Some who declared their love for humanity. But Merlin, Merlin hated himself and loved everyone else – and that worried Gwaine. Merlin spoke about how much he respected Gaius. How everyone should respect Gaius. How Arthur should get on his knees and thank Gaius for breathing! Merlin snuffled and rattled on to Gwaine that no one would ever be as good as Gwaine at being a friend. That Gwaine would never be so stupid, like Lancelot. That Merlin would never let Gwaine be stupid like Lancelot.

Gwaine knocked on the physician's door and opened it slowly to find Merlin's personal hero and savior reading some large dusty book at the far table. Gwaine started to explain while half carrying, half walking Merlin into the room, but something inside Merlin activated. He straightened and flew at the elderly man with wide arms. Gaius caught him in an embrace.

"Merlin! What is.."

"I couldn't believe it, Gaius. I did everything on the list. The list for us, not for him. And I ran into that girl who smells nice and we were talking after I bought the vinegar. And she brought up how much things cost in Camelot. I was trying to decide what to buy my mom this month. And she said I shouldn't have trouble since I do so much. I didn't know what she meant. I thought maybe Mom would like dried apples, yknow for winter. For porridge? Apples in porridge is nice. Right? Mom would like apples, but they can be expensive. Verrry expensive. And the girl said again, that I should have enough since she's seen me. I didn't get it. So we went to the stall together and they really are asking to much. Do you think we could try to dry apples? Is it that hard? I mean, can we? I-I can't afford that." Merlin was speaking quickly and it was difficult to understand him. It was like he was letting out a poison.

Gaius looked at Gwaine. Merlin didn't notice. He just kept talking as it seemed to be in his nature to just talk and talk. He was like a small child who had been lost who had just been delivered to his parent and now he was in confession mode.

"I found him in a state very close to this. He only had two drinks and it took two hours," explained the good hearted knight speaking over Merlin's explanations.

"Pads His Ass and Pads His Shoulders pay their servants better," sniffed Merlin as he wrung his hands and stood still for a moment to rock back and forth onto his heels before once again launching himself into a pattern around the room.

"Merlin that's nothing to be upset about."

The warlock shot across the room and dumped his cloth bag on a table as if he just remembered he had been wearing it. He spoke as clearly as he could, "Actually Gaius, it is. I went and spoke to Uther's man. He doesn't have to do hardly any of the chores that I do, nor has he ever had to do them. I'm the joke. I'm doing several people's job, but I only get paid for one. That's the difference Gaius. That's the difference." Merlin now fueled by alcohol and rage, the depression burned off, jabbed one finger into the air, "I have been – getting less than everyone else while trying harder than everyone else - for YEARS."

And with that, Merlin crumpled. Half laying on a table he began to sob again declaring that even though he knew he was worth nothing to Arthur, it hurt to know it. It hurt to have it confirmed. Gaius rubbed his back and tried to soothe him, as Merlin promised that he had tried his best – every day. He really thought that his work and effort was on some level appreciated in some way and how very much he either really is hated or he really is totally worthless. He'd never be able to afford to move his mother to Camelot. There was more whimpering. More self hatred. Merlin declared that he would never be able to get married and after what happened the last time he looked at a girl for more than a day- he would never dare to think about it anyway! Who was he kidding!? He'd never be able to become a full physician's apprentice. He'd never be good enough... and he can't study... and the hic cups started. Words started disappearing. His knees started to buckle.

Gwaine helped Merlin up his ladder and to his bed. Gaius gave him a pot to put near on the nightstand in case Merlin's almost empty stomach decided to rebel.

"Thank you for making sure he got home, Gwaine," began the elderly physician awkwardly as he settled himself back down into a worn chair, his white hair straggly and face sagging with emotion.

Gwaine expected a _don't get him drunk again_, but it never came. Bravely the knight ventured into conversation with a man who he wasn't sure was angry with him, but sometime in the near future might have to stitch him back together, "At first I thought someone had beaten him up."

Gaius's only reply was _the eyebrow_.

Grinning sheepishly, "Yeah well, he was sitting against a wall. Looking like he'd been crying. He was all dusty. I tried to get him to talk, but he looked like he was going to cry again. I figured he wasn't going to come back here until either you were asleep or he could fake a grin. So... so I medicated him my own way to give him a little liquid backbone so he could make the journey home with eyes like that."

The floor had never looked so good. There was all sorts of things down there. Mainly dried leaves and flower petals. It smelled nice in here as well. Earthy. Spicy. The knight looked up as Gaius enveloped him in a fatherly hug.

"Merlin's right, you know. You are a good boy," said Gaius softly before he pulled away and ruffled the shocked knight's luxurious locks.

Tearfully touched, Gwaine went to bed that night with all sorts of new emotions. He was happy. He was sad. He was very angry. He just didn't know how to feel and wished he could feel just one thign at a time. One thing was for sure, Gwaine lost respect for Prince Arthur that night. He would no longer looked at the pale pink-cheeked blonde with respect – even though he was different than his father.

After Gwaine left...

* * *

A very angry, Arthur banged his way into the physician's quarters looking extremely put out and angry. Arthur was so put out from the walk, that he did not notice the expression on the old man's face. Later he would blame it on the fact that he was so hell bent on telling off Merlin, that he didn't notice. He wasn't so self absorbed that he wouldn't notice, was he? One thing was for sure, he wish he had noticed.

"Gaius, where is he?" demanded the Prince.

Gaius answered quietly, "Sire, I have no idea where Merlin is."

"He is supposed to be helping me arrange something nice for our guests for tomorrow evening," explained a very frustrated Arthur, "and he wasn't there to serve or pour drinks tonight. Our guests weren't impressed when I had to summon a replacement. It looked like we don't know who's working what shift!"

Arthur was very angry and Gaius did not look like he cared at all however he moved out of his comfortable chair to face his prince. There was something about Gaius's body language that betrayed his words. Arthur was sure that Merlin was in his room and he wasn't very happy that the physician was covering for him.

"Gaius! You must have some idea!" Arthur lunged forward as if he were about to dash forward towards Merlin's room, but Gaius held up an arm.

Gaius narrowed his eyes, "Arthur, I have cared for you since you were a babe. I have cared for you all throughout your childhood and for most of your adult life. I will no longer submit to being interrogated by you - not at my age. You are my Prince and my future King, but I am your physician. I am sick and tired of you and your father treating me like I am hiding things from you."

When Arthur did nothing except for gape like a fish abandoned on the seashore, Gaius continued, "I'm sick of my chambers being searched as if I'm a back stabbing traitor. If I were out for your lives, believe me as a physician, would I really have to resort to magic or some involved plot? Do you people ever think or use the heads you were born with? I'm sick of my precious materials being broken and smashed and then I'm told to find cures NOW with insufficient supplies. You don't even allow Merlin time to help me replace anything!"

"We offered to replace..."

"No Arthur you will not interrupt me."

"We offered to pay."

"Arthur, you..."

"We apologized."

"Shut! Up! Arthur! You will listen! For once, you will listen. You don't follow medical advice. You don't listen to me. You don't trust me. You took Aggravaine's word over my own and now you are interrogating me about the whereabouts of Merlin. My Merlin, who is like a son to me. My assistant, who helps me patch up your knights. A boy who never gets to go see his mother, who never puts his needs first, and who does try his best every day."

Arthur was pale. Gaius had never spoken to anyone like this, ever. Arthur never knew he even had a temper. Gaius might have started out speaking sternly, but towards the end of his speech he was practically yelling at the Prince and the look on his face was daring – as if he was hoping Arthur would react.

"You will arrange your own breakfast tomorrow, because when Merlin gets back – I have things, yes I have important things I need him to do for me. Where do you think remedies come from? Where do the materials we use to prevent infection, stop bleeding, help ease the nightmares, and soothe all matters of aches and pains come from? They aren't from magic. Even magic cannot replace the vast amount of medical supplies you use, break, waste, and squander. It has to be gathered, ground, boiled, and made into medicine. Do you understand what I am explaining to you, Arthur? Do you have any idea at all where all of this comes from?! I'll tell you Arthur. From Merlin's. Girly. Habit. Of. Flower. Picking. And guess what, Princess," Gaius added huffing and puffing as if he had just walked up a very long flight of stairs - feeling bold he had decided that taking a page from Gwaine's book of insults had been the right thing to do, "I do it too, Arthur. Medicine requires me to also have the girly habit of picking flowers."

Arthur's eyes were as wide as saucers.

* * *

_What had happened:_

After, Wynne, the maid who smelled so nice and looked so pretty had left him in front of a cart that was laden with dried nuts and fruits for winter. Merlin felt his heart sink, but it wasn't until he had run through the castle to find Uther's man was it confirmed: Merlin was severely underpaid and overworked.

Because of Uther had hired Merlin, the stable boys were no longer required to muck out the stables. The servants who were in charge of the hunting dogs were told not to walk them and that Merlin would do that – everyday. A laundry girl had been fired, because Merlin would do Arthur's laundry. The truth of the matter was that before Merlin, there had been several servants attending Arthur. He had kept firing them or they had quit – and there had been a gap in the staff. However once he got Merlin, they gave him the work of several servants for the pay of one.

Merlin had gone back out into the woods and had a bit of a magical hissy fit. He felt so stupid! Money really hadn't been important to him at all as long as he had a roof over his head, but to be taken advantage of – well that THAT just wasn't allowed. That felt worse than having a destiny. That felt worse than only being able to send his mother a dozen candles – that he had to make himself. That felt worse than being called a fool, because now...he felt like a fool!

When the winds had died down and the dust had settled, Merlin felt totally drained and weak. It was good to burn off the frenetic magic that had begun to threaten to release itself due to his mind racing in every direction. It had been a long time since he released his magical energy without focus, but he would need time to think – he needed to really think. Merlin blinked and looked around at was once a just a wooded area. Now it was teeming with plant life and mosses, tendrils of flower vines threaded up oaks, and there was a carpet of moss all around him.

Spent and soul-sick, Merlin staggered back into Camelot. A patch of shade looked inviting and his head was buzzing with complaints. He didn't care. He couldn't go home yet and upset Gaius in the middle of the day because he would have to explain. He had to calm down first so that he wouldn't get dosed with something vile so that he could control his magic. He didn't want to say he had already discharged a large amount of power off because he knew what that would get him as well. Sitting down in the shade and having a bit of a cry seemed like a good idea, after all it wasn't unmanly to cry, was it? He was just a commoner anyway, no one cared if he cried. It was safe now, perfectly safe, right?


	4. Chapter 4

It was still early when Merlin woke up, the sun had barely begun to stain the sky. He felt slightly hung over, but that was probably more from the huge release of magic than the drink. Normally he only had a little bit of drink when eating dinner with Gaius as it was a treat. Intoxication and a secret that needed guarding with one's life were not two things that were easily mixed.

Memories of his appalling behavior from the night before shamed Merlin, normally he did not openly display raw emotions. He hadn't had the luxury of doing that since he lived with his mother. He did express himself to Gaius on occasion, but never the way he had last night. Even when he had those odd moments of feeling that he was a monster, he never broke down and sobbed.

"Note to self, drink and huge release of magic equals Merlin age five – do not repeat," at least if he was going to lose it, it had been Gwaine and Gaius who had been the witnesses and not the Prince of Prats. Gwaine at least liked him as a friend. He called him his best mate and Merlin actually believed him. It would be nice to tell Gwaine about his magic, to come clean about everything, and to not have to hide.

Merlin raked his hands through his short hair and stuffed them behind his head as he contemplated whether or not Gwaine would pull a Lancelot and step in for him, when it was his duty to protect Arthur. A water spot on the ceiling from where the roof had once leaked hovered above Merlin like an angry storm cloud as he tried to divine wisdom from it's shades of grays.

He couldn't.

He just couldn't.

Merlin sheepishly crept down his ladder hoping that Gaius wasn't about to descend upon him to see if he were possessed and quietly called out the physician's name, but no one answered.

The nice thing about living with someone who cared about you was that when the world fell into pieces, that person usually knew exactly what you needed to get back on your feet. Gaius had left a note saying that Merlin had the morning off and that he left breakfast for him. Merlin had been sucking on his lower lip, worried that Arthur might come barreling in demanding where he was last night. He wasn't sure how Gaius got him the morning off, but the way he felt – he didn't really care. He was just grateful. The pressure on his shoulders lifted and the knot that he felt growing between his eyebrows started to release.

It would be the first time in months that he had a few hours to himself.

There were times when Arthur offered rewards to Merlin and even though it was tempting to take him up on the offer – it was impossible to accept. He couldn't take a reward for saving Arthur's life. One day the secret would be revealed and if one coin passed between them – it would ruin the whole thing.

The problem was, his magic studies were going to get expensive soon. He needed to advance his abilities in order to keep Arthur safe. He also needed to advance his abilities in medicine. No one who went out with Arthur on patrol even knew the basics of wound care other than deep cuts need tourniquets.

If Morganna ever found out that he was Emrys, he wanted to make sure his mother was out of Ealdor. He couldn't risk the witch attacking his mother and holding her hostage in an attempt to get to Arthur. Merlin didn't even want to consider the possibility, but he had to factor in what Morganna might do if she were desperate enough. Not long ago, he could never imagine Morganna hurting his mother, now? Now, he could.

Merlin's stomach threatened to do a little flip in frustration as he pondered his situation. Somehow he needed to earn a few extra coins a week without his ambition getting in the way of helping Gaius or babysitting Arthur. It would be nice to have a skill other than magic. Magic was not going to be able to help him through this, but there had to be an answer.

Perhaps he should seek out the Great Dragon just to talk? _ "No. The Great Dragon doesn't understand that I'm a freak and a failure who is broke and needs to move his mother, have money for materials, and needs to make a few changes in my security. To him it's Destiny Destiny Destiny_," Merlin thought to himself. It was true. The Great Dragon thought that Merlin was very special even though he thought Merlin was the rudest most impertinent youngster who ever dared to treat a dragon like a horse.

"This is just great, I feel totally helpless. I'm better than this," Merlin chided himself as he attempted to eat some of the porridge left by Gaius. It wasn't that bad and it wasn't clashing with his hangover however he didn't feel any better after he had eaten.

Merlin's eyes welled up and he defiantly brushed the tears away. Crying wasn't going to solve his problems. Squaring his shoulders, he decided that today he would make a difference. He would figure out how to solve his own problems! He would start off by giving the place a good cleaning. It had been a while since either one of them had gotten a chance to clean. That was always a good place to start since it never seemed to be a good idea to treat patients where there were things that could fly around and get stuck in the wounds.

Gaius had forbidden Merlin relying on his magic for "everyday" tasks, but cleaning their home wasn't an every day task. It wasn't even a monthly task. It was a _whenever we can manage it_ task. It just didn't come regularly enough and when it did, it was often interrupted. Today it wouldn't matter. Merlin was going to get everything clean and organized – AND he was going to study medicine.

While Merlin studied and crunched his way through an apple, Arthur's clothes were spelled to correct themselves and adjust to the size that Merlin thought would accommodate the Prince, the floors were scrubbing themselves, the cabinets waxing themselves, and dust mixed with dried flowers self destructed in showers of blues and golds.

* * *

Prince Arthur was in a mood. The ever so perfect George, the servant without a flaw and without a personality - had been the servant who had graciously stepped in to fill Merlin's shoes. This meant there were no opinions, no comments about his behavior, and no moments of honesty. George's presence not only irritated Arthur, but it added insult to injury. Arthur had barely gotten any sleep at all before the overly neatly groomed poor imitation of Merlin greeted him with an obnoxiously grand breakfast.

It was enough to drive a man mad.

A lot of the male personal servants were starting to copy Merlin's style of dress. They wore his colors and neckerchiefs, but they wore better fabrics and were neater and cleaner about their appearance. Merlin had the second most prestigious serving job in all of Camelot and he just didn't seem to take any pride in the job. He never dressed for the occasion unless he was forced to wear the former ceremonial servants robes of Camelot.

He was a hard man to understand. One minute he would leap to drink poison to save Arthur's life, the next he's calling Arthur names while tramping around in the same old farmer's clothing that he had always worn. Merlin simply just did not have any pride or manners what-so-ever. Arthur had to admit that it was one of the reasons that he liked the boy, but he would prefer if it Merlin would display some pride in his station. It was actually an honor to serve him, after all.

Arthur's pride had been left stinging from all the things that Gaius had said to him. He just had never thought that the elderly gentleman would have it in him to say a cross word to anyone – nonetheless him. He hadn't expected to be told to leave. He hadn't expected Gaius to dare him to ever accuse him of ever plotting against Camelot ever again. He hadn't expected Gaius to demand that he respect his chambers as Gaius's home even though his home was in the palace.

It was as if Gaius had forgotten his place entirely.

Truthfully, it had hurt. To speak as he had, was treasonous. He could have the man executed, especially by implying that as a physician there would be numerous ways to kill his father or himself. It was just so out of character and Arthur could not even fathom what had provoked such an emotional and disgraceful display. Even when the Witchfinder had convicted him of sorcery, Gaius's confession was poignant instead of damning.

Arthur felt a lump growing in his throat and he didn't like the feeling at all.

It wasn't going to help dwelling on the fact that Gaius had been so angry with him because the old man was probably just feeling his age. He would probably soon be asking for retirement anyway. It wasn't Arthur's fault that Merlin was rubbish at gathering supplies. That Merlin wasn't fast enough. It was just picking flowers! How hard could it be to walk out side to a field or the forest and pick a plant? That's not hard. Arthur was sure that anyone at all could do that flower picking thing better and faster than Merlin.. Anyone. In fact, Arthur decided that Merlin probably spent most of the time he was flower picking, sitting down and gazing at clouds or something mind numbingly dull or what ever it is that lazy people do with their time.

Arthur's mind kept going back to Merlin and not just because Arthur wasn't getting his way. No. Working for Gaius did not excuse Merlin from his duties the night before and Gaius had not offered any excuse for Merlin. However that did not excuse Merlin for ditching his duties the night before. When Merlin finally did show up for work, Arthur was not going to show him any mercy. He wasn't taking any frustration out on Merlin either, this was not Gaius's fault. Merlin _deserved _this.

There was one thing Arthur was great at and that was making as much unpleasant work as possible for his manservant. At first it was to see if Merlin could be forced to quit, but after a while he grew fond of the wiry fellow and had even been impressed with his ability to accomplish near impossible lists of tasks.

There was one good thing about being sour, it would make for a great sword practice. When ever Arthur was frustrated, angry, or in a generally pissy mood – he always came out on top at practice. It would be a good time to challenge Gwaine, since the knight's skills were so fluid and well balanced it was impossible to beat him.

Most of his knights were spread out. Some were warming up and taking practice lunges at straw dummies. However the ones from the common families were all gathered around Leon, while Gwaine stood off to the side with his arms folded across his chest and his lips tightly squeezed together in a white line.

"Good Morning Men!" barked Arthur in what he thought was an appropriate way to greet his knights.

Many of his knights greeted him, Gwaine merely nodded. Arthur didn't see it.

Percival smacked Gwaine in the head. Arthur saw it.

"Something going on here?" Arthur accused, his eyes the color of sapphires glinted in the sunglight.

Gwaine smiled a painful smile, "No Sire," he drawled slowly, "Nothing is going on between me and Perce here. We're friends. We're best friends. Although he can't compete with my best mate, Merlin."

Still stinging from the night before, Arthur allowed a grim look on his face, "Merlin's your best mate, is he? Well, I feel sorry for you. He's extremely unreliable and lazy."

Elyan, Percival, and Leon all looked at Arthur as if they had unsaid accusations. They had grabbed Gwaine's arms, but Gwaine had only stood rigidly before Arthur, breathing heavily out his nose like a bull about to charge. _"Merlin wouldn't want me to, he'd be upset with me. Merlin wouldn't want me to, he'd be upset with me,"_ was the mantra that stayed his hand from reaching for his sword and disemboweling the Princess.

"What? Going to defend his maidenly honor?" teased Arthur, who couldn't help but lash back verbally. He'd been sparring with words with Merlin for years and it was his knee jerk reaction to adversity. The faces before him were anything but amused. Gwaine's had gone blank. His eyes were closed. He was standing straight and still, as if he were posing for a statue of virtue. Arthur was surprised that even Leon looked upset with him and Arthur wasn't sure what was going on.

"Okay, what is it? What's going on? Something's wrong, I can tell." Arthur begged the Leon who's red gold ringlets were dancing in a light breeze framing his head like a halo. Leon shook his head. Gwaine had told them what had happened when he took Merlin home. He dramatically spoke of a pure soul that couldn't even be ruined by drink that put everyone before himself. The problem was that they all knew him as a good man and it bothered them that He thought of himself as "not good enough" and "a joke." Gwaine spoke of dried apples and presents for mother and each and every one of the literally iron clad warriors softened. He swore them all to secrecy. He confessed to keep his own heart from breaking for it was to much for one soul to witness without overloading from the sheer unfairness of it all.

Percival's eyes were fast becoming red rimmed and welling up with unshed tears.

"Men?"

"Uh, Arthur, I think today is a bad day, _morale wise_. Perhaps it would be best if.." the diplomatic voice of Leon tried to reason with Arthur.

Red faced, angry, and with pent up aggression from the evening before Arthur stood before his men vibrating with … indecision.

"Fine. You guys, you can go clean the boots in the armory. I'll spar with someone else. Meanwhile, when you finally find your voices you will explain this to me. I'd not even bother with this, but we have guests and I don't want to throw you in the dungeons with them here. I think I am being more than fair!" snapped Arthur, who was expecting to get an excuse or an explanation so that the knights didn't have to do boot duty. When they turned and sullenly walked off to the armory without a word of complaint, he felt lost.

"First Gaius, now the knights? What's going on?" whined Arthur.

* * *

"Gaius, do you want me to make the burn salve or do you want me to make to make the chest plaster?"

No one was more proud of Merlin than Gaius when ever the young man showed any interest at all in the art of healing. "What do _you_ think we need, Merlin?"

"Burn salve, there are sorcerers everywhere," replied the overly paranoid warlock with a mock smile on his face.

Gaius leaned on his palms as he gave into his laughter before he wheezed out a reprimand, "don't you ever let anyone ever hear you say that. You know, when I was preparing to be a physician I also had to worry about money."

Out of all the subjects that they had talked about – money had never been one of them. Gaius always intended to speak to Merlin about it, but when the boy came to live with him – he had found a job right away. He had found a purpose right away. Money was a subject that might bring things to light that he had no intention of sharing without Hunith's permission for even though Merlin was not his son, he was his nephew. It was another one of those family secrets that remained unspoken. Thanks to Uther's purge of all things magic, it was best to hide all family members – magical or not.

"Chest plaster?" The question brought Gaius out of his musings and back to the problem at hand.

"Yes, Merlin. We'll need it for the ailments of the next season which is almost upon us. Half of Camelot will suffer from fluid in the lungs, and – well - anyway" Gaius plucked a jar of beez wax out of Merlin's hands, "You know, remedies can make a bit of money."

"We never charge for remedies!"

Gaius's compensation for his work did come from the King. Treatment for the sick and ailing was one of the benefits of living in Camelot and attracted many people to the kingdom. Most people were afraid of magic and would not approach a druid encampment even if it was a life and death emergency, and so the demands of the court physician were higher than any other healer in the realm.

"No, Merlin, we don't. However, there are remedies that you could make and you could sell to the apothecary. Remember the Witchfinder's eye-drops? People seek out more than just cures for ailments that threaten their lives. They want things that make them look and smell better," Gaius explained as delicately as he could, "and there are other items that the King won't allow me to make for people. Basically, he won't pay for it. And this means they do not come to see me for certain things."

"Such as?"

The reply was the systematic piling of a short stack of dusty books that Merlin needed to read. He was told to study, to think, and decide for himself what people would want. Like the damn dragon, Gaius was keen on the teaching method that the student need to discover knowledge for himself.

"You can do that in your spare time, when you have a moment. You can use my tools if you need to and then make things yourself. Luckily what you will be doing and what I will be doing use the same kind of ingredients so it won't be that difficult to dry more plants or collect more honey or what ever it is that you will need. Oh the Gods, I'm sorry Merlin, but the morning is over. You'll have to go tend to Arthur." Even though Merlin was taller than Gaius, he seemed to shrink before the physicians eyes. "Merlin?" prompted Gaius gently.

Lips trembling and eyes darting, Merlin slowly raised his countenance to meet Gaius's, "Sorry, I guess I'm to prideful. I'm not eager to race to Arthur's side with the knowledge that every time he tells me how bad I am at my job, how someone else should have my job, and how little I am worth – he actually does believe it."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is. I know it is. Because there's one thing I know about Arthur. He's the type who rewards people for their efforts. My efforts, aren't good enough," with soft words and sad eyes, Merlin gave a fragile smile to his mentor before he exited their chambers. Gaius had given him hope, but now he had to face Arthur and he deserved to be yelled at – which made it worse.

Gaius lifted his eyes towards the heavens and said a prayer to the old religion to grant him patience. He asked the Gods to watch over Merlin and to bring him happiness. After listening to profound silence he did the only thing left to do, he went back to tying camomile to the drying rack.

* * *

Nothing this week was going his way. When he went to the kitchen to pickup food for Arthur's midday meal, the cook tried to add extra meat slices to the plate. Merlin wasn't sure, but he guessed that he was supposed to snatch the extra pieces from the plate. They argued about portions. Everyone was always trying to get him to eat meat, why not bread? Why not fruit? He could manage a sackful of blackberries. Meat always made him feel lazy and just sat in his stomach for hours. He ignored the sneaky attempt to provide him with a bit of food to nick off the plate and told her that Arthur's belt couldn't handle extra meat.

A feminine giggle made him turn his head.

"You're really funny. You dare talk about your master that way?" asked the really pretty, very curvy in all the right places, dimpled, brunette, who smelled nice and apparently liked rude statements. His eyes drank in her features. Even her forehead was perfect. Who knew that a human could have a perfect forehead? He dared not look into her eyes, he knew he would lose himself in them and then he would be no good for speaking for the rest of the day.

Merlin blushed as he contemplated the golds and reds that highlighted her brunette locks as he struggled to find an answer, "Sometimes that's the only way to get people to listen."

She giggled again, "You're so strange."

That was the signal to run.

"I've got to go."

The royal serving tray went high up over his head as he quickly vacated the kitchen without a second glance at Little Miss Smell Me Oh So Good. Heart thumping in his chest, Merlin retreated. For the first time he was happy to have the excuse that he needed to attend Arthur. Destiny would never allow him near a woman without killing her off. There was only one Avalon. He couldn't preserve a pretty girl for a timeless eternity, could he? No. That was to cruel.

Merlin sniffed as he approached Arthur's door. He took a deep breath and opened the door gently with his free hand.

"Sire?"

Arthur smirked.

The manservant looked down demurely.

Arthur stood up from his desk while Merlin quietly approached the table and placed Arthur's midday meal, appropriately on the table. He filled the goblet and straightened the cutlery. He then pulled out his chair and waited for the royal backside to fill the seat.

Arthur stared.

"You know you are doing it wrong. Again." Arthur informed Merlin smugly obviously enjoying the naked display of nerves before him, "You are supposed to pull out the chair and then pour my drink."

Merlin did not say anything. There was no clever retort and no eye rolling. He just stood there while waiting for Arthur to take his seat. Arthur did cautiously, half expecting it to be pulled away even though Merlin wasn't known for physical insolence unless it was to get him out of bed.

"So why did you miss out last night?" demanded Arthur. He honestly expected a perky retort. He did not expect Merlin to mumble, "_I went to the tavern with Gwaine last night."_

"You went to the tavern," drawled the Prince, anger building visibly as he puffed up like a toad, "drinking...with Gwaine? When we have guests that we need to impress every night with assurances that Camelot is _stable_ and runs _smoothly_?"

Merlin nodded while avoiding eye contact. He offered no excuses. He just stood resoltely.

"I should fire you!"

"You should, I agree. I wouldn't blame you if you did. Before you do, I need to bring back your clothes that I washed and mended, uh, before I went out with Gwaine. I'll be... right back."

Merlin's voice had barely been a whisper, but Arthur had heard every word as if the manservant had shouted at him. Tavern. Drinking. Gwaine. Arthur wasn't sure who to skin or if he should skin them both!

When Merlin returned with a basket full of neatly laundered clothing and linens, the edge of Arthur's temper had dulled. Despite Merlin neglecting his official duties, he still managed a large amount of work. He didn't realize that Merlin had just done the work with magic, but what he didn't know wouldn't kill him. In fact, magic was what had been keeping him alive.

"Sit." Arthur pointed at a chair. "Explain to me, why you decided to go to the tavern instead of perform your duties, Merlin! Explain to me why I shouldn't fire you!"

"Just fire me or forgive me," replied a depressed Merlin.

"Fire you or forgive you? What has gotten into your head?"

"Yes, you want to. I don't know why you keep me. I'm terrible at my job. You say so all the time. Why keep me? Is it that you pity me?" The bottom lip was disappearing as Merlin struggled to keep it from trembling not realizing that his entire body was quaking visibly. He didn't want to cry in front of the worlds biggest prat.

However he didn't have to worry to much about the rest of the inquisition for Arthur had reached his breaking point. He swiftly advanced on his manservant and grabbed Merlin by the back of his jacket. Lifting Merlin out of his seat and off of his feet in one smooth motion he threw Merlin into a wall. Arthur's pinned Merlin to the wall with one arm pressed against his chest as if Arthur just wanted to make his manservant disappear. It was as if he could thrust him physically into the wall and leave him there, but the frail man's body wouldn't meld with stone.

At arms length, eyes locked.

"Oh you are not going to run. I know you. I know that look. Something is wrong. Almost everyone I've come across has been cross and unpleasant. I know visiting kingdoms puts pressure on us all, but I thought you could take it Merlin. If you couldn't, you should have said something to me. You were drinking with Gwaine last night so maybe you have some idea why is Gwaine pissed at me?" demanded Arthur pushing against his servant's chest to punctuate his words.

Merlin's adams apple bobbed, but there was no answer.

"You live with Gaius, do you have any idea why did Gaius told me off?" demanded Arthur.

Merlin's twitching increased and now extended down to his knobby knees. Guilt poured off of the warlock. It was almost tangible. There was no way Arthur could miss it or ignore it. Merlin tried to mentally go through the names of the flowers he'd memorized so far and their uses, but even his discipline was failing him.

"Why are you acting like an idiot? You're just going to stand there? What aren't you telling me? How many times have I forgiven you for going to the tavern, Merlin? How many times have you ended up going there anyway? And now you're acting all timid and guilty – saying that I should fire you or forgive you? Are you trying to drive me crazy? Do you think I need to deal with YOU right now? You should first decide whether or not you want to keep your job or if you want nights at the tavern."

Dark blue eyes darted around the room as if looking for a way out, a hero, an escape route – anything. Merlin placed a fine boned hand over Arthur's wrist delicately and then lightly pushed down as if he could gently remind the royal that it might be a good idea to let go. It was enough to intimidate and demoralize without squashing a human body, wasn't it?

"Merlin!"

"_You_ are _hurting_ me," said servant, breathlessly a strange light seemed to flicker in his eyes for just a moment. Arthur frowned. There was no way that he was hurting Merlin. He reduced the pressure, but he did not let go.

It was at that time Arthur's last living functioning and "loyal" relative, Lord Aggravaine or Lord Aggravating knocked and entered the Prince's resplendent royal chambers. The mood suited the dark lord just fine. Angst, instability, and delicately laced through with bits of emotional betrayal – it was just lovely.

"Sire, King Jerrod and his son request your company," Aggravaine's voice was a purr tinged gently with personal amusement before he changed it to concern as he took in the scene being played out, "is anything wrong, Arthur? What has Merlin done?"

"He has earned himself a day in the stocks," explained Arthur before he commanded, "Arrange it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: It's a bit AU = Gwen's banished, Uther's dying, and Lancelot is dead. Just to keep things clear. I am mixing up the order a bit for my own devices, oh and remember, Season Five... _never happened._**

* * *

The stocks were supposed to be the tool of social humiliation. The person who got locked into them was subjected to being target practice. The missiles of rotten fruit and vegetables were unpleasant, but hardly lethal. The weather could add more discomfort and usually did. The odd stinging insect bite by chance occasionally added a level of torment. The teasing, jibes, and verbal abuses were expected – but only a person with to much pride was at risk of being truly hurt by a stranger's remark.

No matter what was thrown at Merlin, nothing could actually harm him. He was already his own worse tormentor so even as he was pelted, cursed at, stung, sunburnt, while being bent at an incredibly uncomfortable angle for his long lanky frame: it was his inner monologue that was doing the most damage.

_Arthur doesn't really need me. I'm a terrible servant. Why am I so underpaid? Why am I the joke? Haven't I proven myself? How much harder to do have to work? What am I doing wrong? I don't want my mother to live in Ealdor! Half the spells in my spellbook I can't even afford to try. Why am I doing this? Why is George so perfect? Who could love polish so much? What is wrong with that guy? Am I going to be a loser forever?_

The Gods knew just how much he was so tired of everything!

It was midway through Merlin's spiraling depression that his spirit rallied back. Even though he was at fault for going to the tavern and skipping work, he was paying for it without complaint. He did have some sense of responsibility if he were willing to face the consequences and face when he was at fault.

He may not be the best servant in the realm, but he had more work assigned AND he also was the unofficial body guard of the Prat. He barely had enough time to eat and sleep, nonetheless the long list that was expected of him daily. If he hadn't cheated, he wouldn't have been able to complete most of his assignments that Arthur demanded nonetheless attempt to do Gaius's requests.

He would study and he would sell things to make up the missing portion of income that he needed.

He would move his mother from Ealdor to Camelot to keep her from being threatened by people like Morganna. She wasn't getting younger and he wanted to be able to look out for her.

"_I want to escape this moment so that I can think,"_ was the driving thought and emotion - even without a flash of gold, Merlin's eyes began to flutter. Dark lashes slowly laced over his fathomless blue eyes. Filtering out the light of day, leaving Merlin only with his thoughts.

A rotting squash exploded into a spray of stinking liquid near his ear – spattering his face with vegetable gore, but Merlin didn't flinch. Even if Arthur himself had come up and mashed a rotting potato into his face, he wouldn't have noticed. He was elsewhere in his mind, blissfully removed from everything. He was to busy planning how he would take care of Arthur, manage Gaius, make money, and be a dutiful son. The secret warlock had closed his eyes completely - he did not even register the way his body went slack in the stocks.

He would forgive himself for not doing enough and he vowed he would never forsake his duty again.

At one point, Merlin heard Gwaine speaking to him. The knight tried his best to speak to Merlin, but Merlin kept his eyes closed and his mind focused as he carefully tried to thread his days together with magic.

It might be a good idea to talk to Kilgharrah. He might be a master of riddles but Merlin could force a yes or no answer out of him if he wanted. He might be able to narrow down the most critical times to pay attention to his Destiny.

He had been in the stocks, hadn't he? Where was this? Well it didn't matter, he had other things to worry about right now...

"... are you okay...?"

Anticipating Arthur's needs was always so damn hard, especially since the prat seemed to enjoy making work harder.

"He's trembling. Maybe he needs water?" a woman's voice suggested.

The problem would be finding the time to sleep. When would there be the time? He would have to discuss his schedule with Gaius, especially if he was going to be getting twice the amount of supplies than normal.

"Merlin?"

One thing that kept coming to mind was that if he was such a lousy servant, why give him extra duties? Mucking out the stables was the stable boy's duty, wasn't it? Was Arthur just being a jerk or was there something else to it? Merlin wasn't sure what to think of that one, but he didn't want to do it anymore.

He didn't witness the argument that broke out between the knights and the guards. He didn't feel himself being removed from the stocks and dropped to the ground. He didn't hear the worried voices or see the exchange of concerned looks. Gwaine's shaking him did not stir his awareness nor did being hauled over Percival's shoulder like a broken doll.

* * *

Arthur and Aggravaine were walking back from a very boring but successful chat with the visiting royals. In face, Arthur felt a lot more cheerful than his uncle looked, but he figured that it was because of the increasing amount of stress involved in running Camelot with his father sick. Gaius said that his father was slowly dying, that he was dying of a broken heart. He said it was just a matter of time the poison that was Morganna's betrayal, ended the King's life.

It would be nice right now to talk to Guinevere. He needed her right now, but that just couldn't happen. He couldn't need someone who had betrayed him so openly. Was waiting for him to become King that tedious? He wasn't willing to usurp his father. He just couldn't do it. As much as he needed her, he didn't want to need her.

There wasn't anyone else that he could share ideas with, even his uncle didn't seem to understand his mind. He wasn't willing to become a King who followed orders from his elders, but he needed to have some sort of counsel.

"What is going on there?" demanded Aggravaine, who began walking briskly towards a group of knights. Arthur followed his uncle closely, taking in the group of boot polishers heading towards the court physician's quarters with a limp Merlin with dangling limbs over the giant knight's shoulders.

"This boy was sentenced to the stocks a few hours ago and his punishment is not yet over," Aggravaine admonished Leon who had the decency to lower his gaze while his fellow knights glared at the black clad lord with impatience.

"Sire," Leon's gaze fell upon Arthur his voice pleading, "whether or not Merlin's punishment has been carried out to the end, he's in no condition to carry it out. We found him like this in the stocks."

"The boy is faking," Aggravaine argued glancing back and forth from Leon to Arthur.

Merlin was pale and covered with pink blotches from the uneven sunlight and from being carried in an inverted position. His head and forearms were covered in putrid vegetation, and his mouth hung slack unaware of the flies that were crawling over him. Arthur's gut twisted as he looked at his manservant,

there was something obviously wrong, Merlin would never fake fainting in the stocks. He was to proud for that. The boy was as stubborn as a goat. He was the type who rolled his eyes and did what he thought he should do rather than what he was told.

"Take him to Gaius and report to me after."

Whether or not any of the knights heard the concern in his voice, he did not care. They turned as a unit and went up the stairs that lead to the Court Physician's chambers.

Not soon after the knights had gone from view, a few roughed up, bruised and bleeding guardsmen show up to report the knights that had taken the servant from the stocks. They complained about the lack of orders and authority. They obviously did not think that Merlin's lack of consciousness mattered and Arthur heard them out, nodded frequently, and then sent them away.

"Sire," Aggravaine began.

Arthur held up a gloved hand, "There's no need. Merlin's been off for a few days. Perhaps I was to hard on him? From what he looked like, there is a chance that he's been sick. What matters is getting him back to normal. I don't want to have to train another manservant."

Aggravaine made a small noise that sounded like disapproval, but Arthur wasn't paying close attention. Side by side they traveled the corridors, Aggravaine chatting as Arthur walked in silence. His mind once again dissolving into, _"I wish she were here." _

They passed a young maid from the visiting kingdom, she held a large basket in her arms that was threatening to spill over with flowers. The air around her was permeated with the smell of wild flowers and the earthy smell of clipped greens. She lowered her head as Arthur and his uncle passed her, a small smile blossoming on her lips.

* * *

It wasn't until later that night did Merlin's eyes open again. His mentor's face came into focus slowly in the dimly candle lit room. He blinked several times as his mind slid into awareness. He was home. He was clean. Shirtless. The blanket was scratchy. He was on Gaius's cot. His mouth tasted like Arthur's socks and the only thing that could explain that was that Gaius must have dosed him with something really obnoxious. While the potions and medicines were effective, the contents of some of them were truly disgusting.

"...Merlin?"

Merlin smacked his lips before answering, "Gaius? How..?"

A large cool hand gently laid itself over his forehead and brushed back his short fringe, "You blacked out in the stocks, Merlin."

A knot of fear started forming in the warlock's stomach. He knew he didn't pass out. His magic acted without him to fulfill a want. He had wanted to escape the moment to think and his magic had answered his need. This was beyond catching a falling bucket of water or reflexively making a load light enough to lift without saying a spell.

"No. Gaius. It wasn't that at all," the warlock said softly to his confused and obviously stressed guardian. He caught his guardian's hand with his own and held it, partly because Gaius was fussing but mostly because he felt to off balance. He needed to hold onto someone, he'd been in the void much longer than he wished."I – I think I lost control. I think I accidentally spelled myself."

The elderly man jumped as if shocked and looked over to the corner of the room where Gwaine was sleeping. The dashing knight was sprawled in a spindly chair, his head flopped to the side.

"Merlin!"

"Sorry. I didn't realize we had a guest."

Merlin sat up slowly, his head felt heavy.

"You were in quite a state, Merlin. Normally a person would either be half dead, drugged, enchanted or extremely ill to be as...," Gaius paused as he recollected his horror when he had examined Merlin. Barely breathing, unresponsive, pale, low heart rate and with no sign of what had caused the symptoms.

Merlin wanted to get up and pace around the room. He wanted to move his blood through his limbs. He wanted to feel something. He had been so involved with his problems and he worked out solutions, but then he had realized that he was removed from himself, but not. He'd never been so terrified or desperate. He knew he would never be able to fully explain how it felt.

"I'm not ill, Gaius. I'm alright, now. I knew, but I didn't. I was distracted."

"How can that be?"

Oh how he wished he knew! He didn't know. He wanted to know. He needed to know. But there was no one who could possibly help him to find the answers that he needed.

This was one of those rare times that his magic frightened him. No, actually it was one of those times when he frightened himself. He had just purged his magic the day before, a slip up like this... no even a slip up like this should not be possible. Wishful thinking never triggered his magic before – had it?

"Gaius, I think I'm tired," Merlin said through lips that had stretched into a pained smile as his magic flared under his skin and against the fiber of his being. He wanted to say, something's wrong with me. My magic feels weird. How does magic feel weird? Has your magic ever felt weird? Hey Gaius, do you ever feel magic when you're walking around? Could you feel it when you did a spell? However, Merlin couldn't and he knew that he shouldn't. Gwaine was in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Gwaine stir.

A small bottle was pressed into his hand. Merlin grimace was as bitter as the potion. He may have spent the day "passed out" in a void, but he still needed rest. A heavy sleepy feeling began to drag at his consciousness, inwardly Merlin sighed as he vowed to himself that tomorrow...

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Magic would find a way to survive with or without reasons.


	6. Chapter 6

No man would ever be the Doom of Morganna. It just wasn't possible! She wouldn't allow it and she certainly wasn't going to sit and wait for the man in the shadow stalking her to jump her! No, she would fight the shadows. She would become the shadow so that she would see him. If she could see him, she could fight him. If she could fight him, she could defeat him.

If a vial broke, _Emrys did it. _

When the roof leaked, _Emrys, did it._

If her nail broke, _Emrys did it._

When she couldn't remember the words for a spell,_ it was Emrys's fault!_

She had fought the old sorcerer over the Fomorroh and he had proved to much for her. Surprisingly he was more concerned about killing the creature than killing her and she had no idea why other than that Merlin must somehow be one of his confidants. She had no way of verifying that, but it was the only thing that made sense.

_Merlin! _Oh how she wanted to gut him. That sniveling little two-faced liar! She used to think so highly of him, but as much as she liked him – she now hated him. She would never forgive him. Never!

Instead of sending her to Emrys to learn magic, he had sent her to the druids. Emrys was to precious to reveal. He was more important than she was! Everyone was more important than she was! She was so easily sacrificed! So easily poisoned! So easily tossed aside.

She would make Arthur's manservant pay for pretending to care about her. She tried to run her hand through her tangled hair as she thought about him, but gave up when tugging made the knots tighten further. _Merlin, he might have cared a little at one time, but like everyone else – when it came to a choice – NO ONE chose her side!_ No one who had mattered had for so long, Morgause had eventually, but she tried to Arthur first. When Morganna had learned of that, she forgave her sister. With all her heart she forgave Morgause, because they hadn't known each other yet. It didn't erase the fact that it had hurt so very much.

Morganna was tired of being hurt. She threw her head back and her mass of black knots and ragged curls slammed against her back. It no longer flowed around her in the soft veil. She chuckled softly as she considered how it seemed to match her progressing wretchedness that "they" would pay in kind for... it wasn't her fault.

She never asked for magic. She synthesized with those that Uther executed, but never once in her wildest dreams did she ever WANT magic. She didn't want to be a monster. She didn't want to be hunted, but she did have magic. She saw first hand what it was that Uther did. She couldn't be like the druids and wait peacefully to be caught and be lead to her execution.

She had no choice, but to advance her skills in magic. She had no choice but to take her sister's place as high priestess of the Old Religion. A grim smile graced her pale lips as she considered how much tougher Emrys would find her after she completed her transformation.

* * *

As George elegantly swept around the royal chamber Arthur stared at his form super-imposing efficiency with bumbling as if on instinct. Yesterday, did not happen. Arthur did not want to admit to losing his temper at Merlin. He did not want to think about the argument that had Merlin admitting that he should be sacked. He did not want to think about how he had pressed the thin frame of his friend into the wall without thought or mercy or how he had his uncle slap Merlin into the stocks.

Something was wrong with Merlin and Arthur was an idiot for not noticing! Guilt seasoned his midday unpleasantly, despite it being one of his favorite dishes. The seasoned chicken cooled in his fingers as the lump of flesh in his mouth defied flavor.

Seeing Merlin passed out draped over Percival's shoulder had made something in his chest tighten without his permission. Had he been paying attention, maybe that little scene would have never of played out!

George. Oh that ridiculously boring man. He was sweeping Arthur's room now and he was doing it wrong. For one, his mouth was shut. George's thin lips... well they weren't thin. They were thinner than Merlin's. Merlin's mouth was plump, like a child's mouth. No. Not like a child's mouth. He spoke like a child. His mouth was more like...Arthur glared at George through his lashes even though he was thinking of Merlin. Merlin's mouth was more like an Angel's mouth! No. Yes! Merlin might be a moron but he … No. It didn't matter what Merlin's mouth was like, because George was sweeping the floor wrong.

That boring manservant very skillfully swept dust and debris into little piles before ushering the piles into that collector thing and dumping it in the ash bucket. His grip on the domestic tools was more firm and commanding as if he was born to wield these as Arthur was meant to wield a sword. Merlin would fumble and drop the broom several times as if it didn't belong in his delicate porcelain hands.

His hands, Merlin's – did they even look like other people's hands? Certainly they did.

He felt frantic and a bit stupid. Since when did he think of _Mer_lin as an angel?! HA! Arthur's head was spinning with confusion. It was the same problem. The same thing about Merlin from the very beginning. There was something about Merlin. Something he knew about the man from the moment their eyes met. He was bold, brave, and he was so stupidly delicate for one so resilient. Something was wrong, so very wrong with Merlin.

He should have known. He knew his friend. He knew his manservant's unwavering loyalty. He knew Merlin wouldn't have skipped serving dinner over preferring drinks with Gwaine. Something important had to have happened and of course Merlin would take the blame rather than try to justify. Even if he had a good excuse, Merlin would never even attempt see one for himself. He only excused Arthur's mistakes. He called them, "learning experiences" and "growing pains." A hiss of breath left Arthur's lips as the pain of shame overcame him. Shame wasn't an emotion Arthur was familiar with and he violently rejected it by flinging himself out of the room and through the hallways as he targeted the unpleasant source: Merlin.

* * *

Two young men, one with a blanket and an arm draping his shoulders sat side by side waiting for bowls of steaming porridge and bone warming, medicine laced, tea. Merlin had been leaning into Gwaine's half hug as he sniffled and shivered. Gaius had dosed him pretty heavily the night before and he still felt as if his mind were cloudy. Gwaine kept ruffling his hair on the back of his head and asking him how he felt.

Blue eyes humid with gratitude and pure affection drank in the knight at his side. Merlin didn't even want to wonder how Gwaine would react when he learned that Merlin had magic, but he wanted to believe that Gwaine wouldn't mind. He wanted to believe in Gwaine.

"_Nobility is defined by what you do, and not by who you are. And these men are anything but. They are arrogant thugs!"_ that was what Gwaine had said about those of his own social rank that Gwaine rejected. He was the man who saw nobility in peasants. He valued actions and intentions.

There were so many times Merlin wanted to tell Gwaine. He considered Gwaine a true friend, but he still wasn't. He could never truly be until he could fully be himself with his friend. The knight was true and much nobler than any of the nobles he had met. In fact, in many ways Gwaine made Arthur look a bit churlish. Arthur had the weight of kingdom on his shoulders and he had been taught that he had to freeze his heart in order to make "just decisions."

In some ways, Merlin agreed that a governing body should not take sides due to personal affections – however to know the difference between right and wrong? That was when the heart was truly needed in order to avoid being cold and cruel.

"_If it weren't for Gwaine's drinking and wild tavern behavior, he might not be able to hide his noble blood,"_ the thought flit in through the fog in Merlin's head and quickly left again like a bird entering and exiting a mead hall in panic during a celebration.

The extra warmth and weight across his shoulders lifted as breakfast was served, Merlin sat a little straighter. His mentor sat across from him and began lecturing him on the intelligence of eating regularly, it would be the believable excuse that Gaius would blame for yesterday's black out. It was common for servants to occasionally black out from lack of food or water and even if Arthur blamed it on a hangover – Arthur couldn't argue with the Court Physician.

The times of the Pendragon's arguing with Gaius about his diagnosis's was now in the past if they wanted to keep him in Camelot.

"...me to feed you? Merlin?" asked Gwaine.

Merlin had been staring at his food. Suddenly he snatched up his spoon and began shoveling the watery cereal into his mouth as he bat the knight's hand from his spoon he admonished, "Gwaine, I can feed myself."

His face, neck and ears were approaching Pendragon red as his embarrassment blossomed. He did not want to be treated like a child and he shot a petulant look at his mentor who was so obviously trying not to laugh at him.

The door to their chambers opened as Gaius continued his lecture for the sake of Gwaine's understanding and as instruction to Merlin for excuse making, "How many times have I told you Merlin not to skip meals no matter how busy you are! You are lucky you do not collapse more than you have."

Arthur stood in the doorway, out of breath and pale. He had heard Gaius's admonishment and was taking in the scene before him. Merlin poured a copius amount of honey into his bowl and then began to slice an apple over the honey.

"Why didn't you do that when it was full?" asked Gwaine jealously snatching the honey from Merlin and copying his actions.

Mischief fluttered across Merlin's countenance as he answered, "Tastes better this way. The second half is the reward." As if to prove his point he lifted the sticky porridge laden with fresh apple and stuffed an overly large spoonful into his mouth, his eyes closing in delight.

"Enjoying your breakfast?" The cold voice of Arthur interrupted the peaceful scene. Gwaine didn't react much, he merely raised his eyebrows a fraction. Gaius smiled wanly. Merlin grabbed his hot mug of peppermint tea in an attempt to clear his mouth and nearly choked. His chair flew back as a flustered Merlin sputtered and rose rigidly to his feet.

"Sire?"

Arthur watched as Merlin's adams apple bobbed as if he were afraid he was going to be banished for passing out in the stocks. "_Only Merlin could be so stupid."_

"You know, you're _not_ fired, Merlin." Gwaine and Gaius sat quietly in the tension.

"I don't like George waking me," complained Arthur. "You have no idea how long it would take me to correct his faults – if his faults are even correctable."

Merlin didn't smile.

Arthur frowned. Normally Merlin would smile that goofy smile and say something like, _"so you like me being your manservant"_ or _"you miss me?"_ or even _"is that because I'm not just a __servant? I'm actually your friend?" _The later would be said in hopeful tones with even more hopeful wide eyes – like a child.

"Return to work tomorrow. Take today off, eat. I don't want you weak, making poor judgments, or passing out. Our guests leave tonight anyway."

Arthur turned and left. He didn't even bother shutting the door.

* * *

A month flew by without much of anything happening and Merlin was grateful. He finally had settled into a somewhat decent schedule. He was tired, but he did not have any more accidents. He hadn't accidentally spelled anything since the incident in the stocks. He was actually making decent money making herbal waters, spot removers, and a mild skin antiseptic that he made from goat weed for the apothecary.

With the extra money, Merlin was able to send his mother a thick wool fabric that she would be able to use for clothing or a blanket for the coming winter, paper and ink, and he was also able to send her some money to use if she needed anything. For himself, he was able to procure all sorts of things that he would need for his studies in magic. He even had a few spare coins left over which he hid with his spellbook. Soon, he would be able to move his mother to Camelot where he could take care of her properly.

Merlin really missed his mother. She said she didn't want to move to Camelot, but she had no reason to stay in Ealdor anymore. His father was dead. He would never return to her. Her wait was over.

He wanted to get a small place for her, like Gwen's house. Small and cozy. He would buy her a bed and a comfortable chair. She would probably insist on helping him with the apothecary items, and together they could make a living. She'd be close and out of danger. She could see Gaius when she wanted. She would never see another winter on a cold floor without enough food ever again.

The situation with Arthur was the same. He was still bombarded daily with goblets and boots, tasks that other servants were supposed to do were piled onto him, and there was a distance that had been growing between the two of them. Merlin was ashamed of being both taken advantage of and being made to look a fool by having so many chores that one person would never be able to complete them all without magic.

He cheated, of course, when he could.

He no longer tried to share a midday meal with Gaius. He stuffed apples and nuts into his jacket pockets and kept his gathering bag near at all times so that he could get supplies during those moments when he could leave Arthur on his own. Arthur wasn't likely to get in trouble at meetings or when he was doing paperwork. There was this new habit he had acquired lately of hanging out with his knights after practice and chatting. Merlin had no idea where that came from, but he liked it. Arthur surrounded by his men was the safest place he could leave him for an hour or so - while he ran around like a madman gathering supplies.

Merlin thought that he would feel better, but he just didn't. He didn't have any energy. The few times he went on patrol as either a rat or a cat – he was almost to tired to return to his room and change back into his human form. He felt like curling up in front of the fire in Arthur's room and sleeping. Arthur's chambers really were made for relaxing and laziness. It was a shame they belonged to a person who never actually used them for that purpose unless it was time for sleep. If anyone noticed the strain in the relationship between the manservant and his master of disaster, no one said anything to either of them.

The prat was always in peril of some kind and Merlin saved him from blisters, scrapes, and boredom – when he could. No one had shot an arrow at Arthur lately, but Merlin was always on alert looking for any sign of danger.

Merlin was still threadbare, but he didn't mind. He couldn't wear decent clothes even for his class. The last time his clothes were mended and spot free, he was living with his mother. He didn't have an ASS who threw things at him all the time who ruined everything that he owned!

Destinies are more than troublesome things.

Breaks were missed. Merlin fantasized about taking naps. Arthur reprimanded him for yawning, fidgeting, scratching at itches, and everything else that he did. It wasn't his fault! He was tired. He was itchy. He still got bored following around Arthur watching him do tough and rough guy things to prove to his people that he was the kind of man who could save the world!

Aggravaine was more aggravating than ever. He still mysteriously swept around the castle like he knew something that no one else did and Merlin knew that something was a someone named Morganna. He gave Arthur bad advice that Merlin tutted over after he left the room. He kept slithering around Arthur's advisers, asking them to dine with him. Asking them to many questions over to many servings of wine – he had a talent for making a real pest of himself.

The problem was, Aggravaine hadn't done anything that Merlin could turn him in for yet. He had no proof. No evidence. Arthur lapped up his attentions like a starving infant at the wet nurses breast.

Just when Merlin thought he could relax in a schedule, Arthur had to go and ruin it all.

They were going on a three day hunting trip with the knights.

That night, as the young warlock complained and whined about hunting, his mentor secretly worried about whether or not Merlin should go on the hunting trip. He knew that the boy would follow Arthur no matter where the royal led him. It was his duty to keep Arthur safe, but there was something that just didn't feel right about the hunting trip.

Gaius patted Merlin on the shoulder a few times before handing the boy his supper. Merlin wrinkled his long nose at the meal, but didn't complain. He didn't really like Gaius's cooking, but he was grateful for the food. Gaius watched the boy's face earnestly express all his feelings about how he really felt about hunting. Merlin hated seeing death. Gaius heard it all before and he knew he would hear it again. He didn't trust himself to comment this time. The more Merlin spoke, the colder and harder the knot of concern grew in the old man's stomach.

He didn't want Merlin to worry. He knew that Merlin's state of mind could affect his magic and so all he could do is give his ward, his nephew, his boy... a smile and sent him to bed.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur just could not get through to Merlin.

He had been trying for weeks, but all his snarky comments just seemed to bound off the manservant as if they had never exchanged insults before. Sure there were times when Merlin would actually voice an opinion, but it was generally criticism of his uncle. It wasn't normal to be jealous of being scrutinized by Merlin – and Arthur hated feeling like he wasn't the center of attention.

He tried everything he knew and he invented new things – just to keep Merlin busy. He wanted to make him angry, but instead he just made him quieter and more efficient.

Merlin didn't even have the decency to question him!

The world was ending. No. That wasn't it. His world was ending. Guinevere was exiled and he missed her. His father was loopy in grief over that traitorous bitch, Morganna. All he had around him were "Yes" men and his uncle who lavished attention on him, but was a bit heavy handed in the justice department. It was nice having Aggravaine around, Arthur really needed family right now. He also needed Merlin, but the twitchy boy just seemed to grow more distant every day.

It was starting to bother Arthur just how quiet Merlin was becoming and worse, he was developing the habit of being exceedingly polite. Every "Sire" and "My Lord" felt like a knife twisting in his gut. Each one was a betrayal to all that they'd been through together.

Arthur was starting to wonder if Merlin was _enchanted._

The signs were there. First there was the personality change. It wasn't a complete transformation but it was enough of a difference. This Merlin was not his Merlin. Merlin was paler than normal. Yes, sure the boy was always pale, but now his skin was almost colorless. Translucent. Dark shadows were forming under his eyes. His frame had always been lean, but even though Arthur saw him snacking and eating more – Merlin was actually slimmer than he had been. He was speaking in softer tones. He smiled less and when he did smile – it wasn't the same. He did still joke with Gwaine sometimes after practice, but he rushed off even when Arthur hadn't given him a load of work. Merlin just wasn't Merlin anymore.

Arthur wanted to talk to Gaius about it, but … well... he couldn't. After the night Gaius had told him off about his family accusing him of sorcery, ruining his supplies, and disrupting his life – Arthur barely brought up magic threats anymore unless he could name the threat. The only threat he had a name for was Morganna and he really doubted that Morganna would bother to enchant _Mer_lin.

The knights were all excellent hunters. Squires and servants scrambled back with the slaughtered and salted carcasses to the castle's kitchens, leaving the main hunting party just enough meat for supper. The area between Merlin's eyebrows was crinkled into a "v" and his nose was scrunched. Arthur thought Merlin's nose was long, but not big. It certainly suited the boy's face. Out in the forest, Merlin looked more youthful than he did at the castle. Fresh air seemed to do him good...

The royal frowned as he watched Merlin open a container of oil and another of mixed herbs and salt. He mixed them in a small shallow metal bowl and then started rubbing the prepared pheasants so that they would taste better roasted over the open pit. The distaste for what Merlin was doing was nakedly displayed. The boy looked like he was fighting being overcome with revulsion. Arthur knew he didn't like hunting, but there were no coughs or sneezes to scare prey away. Merlin hadn't tripped over any roots. He hadn't said much of anything all day. He just … did his job.

Being with a Merlin like this – was lonely. Arthur hoped it was an enchantment. He was counting on it, because if it wasn't magic. If it wasn't a spell. If Merlin was himself... he just didn't know what he was supposed to do to fix him.

"Merlin!" the swaggering knight who lately had become a great pain in the ass settled down by the manservant's side. He gently patted a fragile looking shoulder and grinned happily, but Merlin didn't even greet Gwaine warmly. Instead he... he just grinned wanly as he finished seasoning the pheasants.

Gwaine. Arthur pretended to be checking over his crossbow as he considered Gwaine. Gwaine. That one who led Merlin to the tavern when he was to hungry to think. Arthur's lips pursed. All the knights were mad at him not Gwaine for weeks. It took a lot of chat ups and a lot of attempts at bonding to rekindle some of the warmth back from his men. Gwaine still resolutely remained indifferent.

Gwaine poured his water skin over Merlin's hands as the boy rubbed his hands clean with salt from the pack. Arthur was tempted to say something about the waste, but knowing Merlin it was probably sea salt and he probably bought it or gathered it himself. Together they rose and headed into the forest. Arthur didn't ask why. He didn't want to know why. It wasn't his business if Merlin preferred to talk and spend time with the knight than him.

Leon sank into a seated squatting position near his left shoulder and asked, "Sire, are you alright? Can I get you anything?"

Another "Sire," once it was alright, but now that Merlin started treating him like a human being – it wasn't. Arthur snapped out of the study of the killing instrument in his hands, "No, Thank you Leon. I was thinking and besides that – getting me things – is _Mer_lin's job."

* * *

Gwaine was such a big help. Merlin unrolled small burlap bags that he had secreted in one of his jacket's inside pockets and Merlin was quickly filling his with blackberries. The knight on the other hand had much loftier ambitions. He had sworn he had seen trees laden with walnuts and had gone off to terrorize some branches in hopes of filling his bag with something more substantial.

Merlin did have some pinenuts stashed, but he was running low on them. He'd been munching on them all day in hope to boost up some energy. Half the berries he picked where placed in his mouth and half in the sack, he knew from experience just how greedy Arthur could be and he wasn't going to take the chance that his dinner would be distributed as a dessert.

When the bag was nearly full, Gwaine came triumphantly bursting through the underbrush as if he just had an encounter with a very brassy buxom tavern maid.

"I was wrong," Gwaine admitted as he shook a full sack at Merlin, "It was chestnuts!"

Merlin smiled. He really liked chestnuts.

Gwaine picked a few berries and shoved them in his mouth, "These are sweet!"

"I have enough for everyone," the secret warlock stated proudly, but his words made his friend frown.

"Merlin, don't be giving away your supper. I know you have no intention of eating those birds."

Merlin turned his head and stripped a few more berries into his bag before a very quiet, "That obvious, huh?" was asked.

"Merlin. You don't have to answer, but what do you have against hunting?"

The boy's head tilted downwards just a fraction. He took an experimental breath and then another to carry the shame filled words, "I – I just don't like killing. They are innocent. They run. They can't even fight back."

Gwaine grabbed Merlin by the bottom of his elbow and swung him in the direction of the camp, "As I thought. You're a good man, Merlin. You're better than any of us. We better get back soon or Princess is bound to invent ways to keep you extra occupied."

Once again, Gwaine gave him hope. He wasn't that strange or girlish as Arthur claimed. Gwaine understood, why couldn't Arthur?

* * *

A lighthearted mood enveloped the camp as the knights settled down and teased one another. They joked, laughed, and punched each other's arms. Merlin rolled his eyes, an action that Arthur did not miss. "_That was very Merlin-like,_" he admitted to himself and a flood of doubt about an enchantment mixed with grief.

Merlin was dividing the pheasants onto plates. He added a pickled egg, some cheese, and bread that he had brought. The smells from the food that he intended to serve his friends were overwhelming him. He never thought cheese smelled like vomit or that eggs could reek clouds of noxious gas.

These camping trips were supposed to be Arthur's way of getting away from ceremony and Camlot's pressures, but Merlin discovered long ago if he wasn't fed properly Arthur could be an awful human being. A little addition from the kitchen's pantries was not going to hurt the situation.

The men all "oohed" and "ahhed" as they gratefully grabbed their share of the meal. There was enough pheasant for seconds if they wished – and they would go for it. Merlin hadn't plated himself anything yet, he still had to tend to the horses.

"Merlin," called Arthur, "What are you doing? You Idiot. Sit down and eat. Pheasant tastes gamey if it's cold."

Arthur's calling Merlin over for food earned him warm looks from his men, well most of them. Gwaine didn't even acknowledge that Arthur spoke. He just shoved steaming meat onto a hunk of bread and wolfed it down.

"I'm fine," the secret warlock said warmly, as he dragged a dainty looking hand through his short raven hair, "I'm going to tend the horses first. Besides, I don't want any pheasant. That's all for you guys."

Everyone stopped chewing, well everyone who wasn't Gwaine. He was still plowing through his food happily.

"Eat Arthur," pleaded Merlin softly. "It's going to get cold."

Arthur leapt to his feet. He was prepared to _make_ Merlin eat. Sure maybe they had denied him food before, but Gaius said he needed to eat! Gwaine blocked his way, faster than Arthur expected, "Whoa, wait a minute, Princess. Calm down. Eat your food while it's hot. It's good. Merlin worked very hard to make this_ – for you._ And you don't want to put Merlin off his food as his reward for his consideration."

Gwaine wasn't puffing out his nose like a bull about to charge – yet. Light from the fire glinted off his armor, but the steely glint in the knight's eyes was far more intense.

Arthur didn't want to be shown up in front of his men. He was in charge. Gaius said Merlin needed to eat regularly, "Gaius said that he," he stabbed a finger towards where Merlin was, "needs to eat. He's not allowed to skip meals."

Gwaine smiled. Arthur's words had moved the knight's mood from aggressive to brotherly! Arthur was confused as Gwaine repeatedly slapped his hand down, good naturedly, againgst the precious royal shoulder. The one that had been once ravaged by the Great Dragon. Arthur held back a wince.

"No need to worry!" Gwaine assured him, steering him back towards his spot at the fire and back towards his plate. Percival stared at him with a drumstick hovering over an almost empty plate. "Merlin and I got his supper earlier. He's got enough for tonight and tomorrow!"

By the time Merlin came back, the bones of the birds were fuel for the fire. He scooted away from the fire and the smoke and sat down with his dinner. If he noticed the tension, he didn't remark on it. Instead he popped berry after berry into his mouth, greedily.

Arthur sat down next to Merlin and his manservant merely smiled at him, but he kept eating. He was quietly crushing the nut shells between two large rocks by leaning until the shell gave. Arthur watched as nimble fingers plucked up berries and broken nuts – swiftly despositing them into his mouth.

"That's not enough food Merlin," reprimanded Arthur. "There's no meat."

Merlin's cheeks were practically stuffed like a squirrels and even though his frenetic chewing had ceased, there was no way he could speak with a mouth full. Merlin covered his mouth with one hand, like a girl, and reached for his water skin with the other. He turned his back towards Arthur, made a horrid choking sound, drank half his water and turned back to the mouthy monarch.

"Sire," said Merlin straining through a held back cough. He took another draw off his water skin before he found his voice properly, "This is what I wanted to eat."

His blue eyes, so open, were shadowed and not from the lack of light. Arthur did not like how Merlin seemed to be wasting away. He did not like him not eating properly. He did not like him quiet or polite. He did not like that Sire word. He did not like Merlin's berry stained fingers. He did not like Gwaine leading him around like a kid brother who needed protecting.

Just who the hell did they think _HE _was? He was going to be the King and he knew best!

"Gaius said!" Arthur could feel his anger building and he knew it wasn't good, "that..."

"I know." Merlin's voice was soft, apologetic, and so damn timid!

Arthur puffed a little, "If you know then why didn't yo..."

"I-didn't-want-to-eat-anything-that I ..that I.. I watched being killed," Merlin explained moodily.

A bark of laughter erupted before Arthur could stop it. _It was so Merlin-like!_ And then his mood fell as fast as it had lifted. _It was so Merlin-like. _Merlin's eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned a little as he pushed down on his lips as if to stop his words. _That's not Merlin-like!_

Arthur didn't want Merlin to be enchanted, but it would make him feel better or would it?

Merlin stood up and brushed the crumbs from the nuts off his long legs before collecting up the used dishes and discarded water skins. He grabbed a bucket off of his horse, the supply horse., and stalked off in the direction of a murmuring stream.

Gwaine sighed.

Arthur swallowed.

The usually ale soaked knight had seen the whole thing.

Merlin was the first to fall asleep. He withered as his friends looked on. His unfocusing eyes blinking faster as his body succumbed to gravity in slow motion. Leaning on his palm turned into leaning on his elbow and then he was resting his head on his arm, it wasn't soon after – Merlin was asleep.

Elyan chucked and swiftly moved to cover the thin man from the chill of the night air. He draped Merlin's coarse blanket over the sleeping warlock. The blanket wasn't quite long enough and his feet stuck out from the bottom.

"He's probably had that thing from when he was a kid," muttered Percival.

Gwaine chuckled, "How would you know? Were you ever small?"

Percival rewarded his friend with a gentle but firm tap on his arm that was sure to leave a bruise.

"Shhh," admonished Leon as the two giggled as softly as they could.

Merlin moved onto his side cocooning himself as he curled into his blanket much to the amusement of his audience.

"He sleeps like a kid," whispered Arthur. He had tried for judgmental but a fond tone betrayed him. All he could do to save the situation was to sit with a sour expression.

"In many ways, Merlin is a kid," Leon said through a mighty yawn as he claimed ground near the fire to sleep. "In other ways, Merlin is older than all of us. He's definitely a mystery. He's loyal and kind. He's stubborn and argumentative. He's wise and patient. Normally he's a ball of energy, but lately he's been more sedate. He's foolish and clumsy. He's naive but he's educated and yet, he can lack common sense. Gaius says he's a great student. He's a hard worker but I think it's more in his nature to be lazy and stare at clouds. He is so many things and yet, he's just a manservant. A great friend. Selfless. He's a good kid and he's also a great man. Well he will be."

Arthur couldn't argue, but he also _couldn't_ agree. _What if Merlin heard?_


	8. Chapter 8

Gwaine took the last watch and as was his duty - he woke Merlin. The boy was still curled under his a bit to small blanket and slightly shivering, but he responded almost instantly to the knight. Blue eyes blinking in the dying firelight, Merlin stretched before sitting up. The damp cold air snaked through his clothes and into his bones and he rose to his feet shaky like a fawn, as if he had just been born to this day.

Carefully and quietly, he fed the fire after adding rock to catch and radiate heat. He nearly choked as the dew kissed fuel smoked as it resisted combustion. Distracting Gwaine with the sudden need for a pail of water, a quick discrete spell took care of the pollutants that made the fire smell like death. As steady as he could, with his knife, he cut an X into each of his chestnuts..

Morning had come to quickly. Merlin felt sore and lethargic and he couldn't quite stop trembling muscles that did not want to be active yet. It was true he hadn't been home to do half the things he normally did. He didn't have to go on patrol. He hadn't gone out to pick herbs. He wasn't studying or rushing to make things for the apothecary. One night of full sleep couldn't reverse months of self neglect.

After he removed the water and put the chestnuts into a roasting pan, he went back to working on breakfast for his friends, while Gwaine kept watch over the camp. With a long knife sharpened stick, Merlin went back to the stream and speared fish. After cleaning them and gutting them and stuffing each with rosemary sprigs, he arranged them carefully on flat rocks that he placed in the fire after he retrieved his chestnuts from the heat. They smelled nice and were swollen in their shells. He poured them onto a clean cloth from his pack and went back to the fire.

Arthur wasn't fond of bland food. He preferred highly flavored dishes thanks to the castle cooks spoiling his sense of taste by smothering their food with any and all available herbal mixtures always trying to keep the Pendragon family sated. Most wild birds did taste gamey and the secret to satisfaction was to mask the taste with herbs that would taste and smell nice. It usually worked best when the herbs were still warm so that the heat of the meat carried the scent. Merlin made porridge for the knights that would compliment the campfire fish. He added carrot, garlic, and bitter, sharp tasting herbs to the mix before he settled the pot on rocks he'd placed in the fire for support.

Even though it was cold, Merlin was slightly sweaty. He sat close to the fire so that he could make sure that breakfast did not burn. There would be hell to pay if it the food was bad. All he had to do now was to make some peppermint tea, it wasn't invigorating but it beat cold water with breakfast. Roughing it with a royal was truly a royal pain in the ass.

Gwaine happily accepted his breakfast and gave Merlin a thumbs up in appreciation of his first mouthful.

He woke Arthur before the knights. It was never a good thing to let others see the young Pendragon in full pout. Morning was not welcome. Food was. Merlin handed Arthur a full plate, a full bowl, and a full cup. It was best just to distract him with something pleasant before he took his temper out on others.

The knights were generally more forgiving. Waking Percival was a little difficult, the large man was pleasant, but groggy. He sat still for a moment before accepting the warm mug from Merlin. Food was the best way to keep large aggressive men, no matter how good natured, happiness was measured in relation to the amount of hunger. The hungrier they were the more apt they were to be competitive and to avoid conflict the strategy meant that Merlin had to be on top of his game and fill their stomachs. Merlin filled cups, served seconds, and started rolling up bedrolls.

By the time the beaters and other servants rejoined them, Merlin had everything washed, repacked, and ready. It would be another day of slaughter. Another day of death throes, sliced necks, and skinning. He handed over the reigns of his horse to another servant who was to follow from behind, Owaine was the kid's name. He was the only son of a widow from the lower town. Clever, mature, and freckled -the sun-kissed youth welcomed the handful of chestnuts that Merlin offered.

His legs were heavy as he took his place beside Arthur. And even though the Once and Future King had smiled at him in greeting – Merlin couldn't smile back. Merlin wanted to go back home. He was so tired. Weapons were at the ready and even though no one had killed anything yet - the air already seemed heavy with the scent of blood.

* * *

The day was grayer, cooler, and damper than Arthur wanted. After hours of combing the forest, it became apparent that they weren't going to bring down anything significant. The few meager rabbits would be enough for supper, but it was a wasted effort to keep looking. Besides, he couldn't help but notice that Merlin had been struggling to keep up. It was true that Merlin hadn't been himself in weeks, but the longer they hunted the more wan the boy looked. Pale and wet, Merlin awkwardly toddled after Arthur as quietly as he could despite the fact he had begun to sway on his feet.

The extra servants and beaters were sent back to the palace with the furs. The air was heavy with a misting rain that had efficiently soaked everyone.

Arthur could have cursed when the mist stopped to be replaced with a cold and steady wind that cut cold right through the padding under his armor. Merlin had said that they should head back, but Arthur didn't want to take his suggestion. It was the first thing his manservant had said all day.

"The wood is wet," announced Merlin as he pushed for a second time he pushed his opinion, "we should head back."

Arthur huffed before he could help himself, "Just because the wood is wet,_ Mer_lin, we're not heading back. Not for that at least! This is a three day hunting trip, _Mer_lin. If we were at war – we wouldn't go home due to a bit of weather." He wouldn't have resisted if Leon had said it, Leon was still Leon, after all.

All the knights were quiet now and carefully watching the exchange. It hadn't gone unnoticed that Merlin had been silently suffering. The tall thin frame of the servant stood comically before his squatting master, Merlin's face turned stormy as if his emotions were conflicted. His delicate looking hands were resting on his hip bones, but Arthur felt that Merlin wasn't looking down at Arthur as much as measuring him. Merlin turned and began packing equipment onto his horse. When he was finished, he wiped water off his face with the ridiculous rag he wore around his neck. Merlin turned a look that had the weight of an obese tempest stirring in his eyes, "Okay, enough is enough Arthur. We're all going back. You are going to get sick. The knights will get sick."

"I'm in charge here, Merlin. Have you forgotten?" Arthur snapped, "Don't forget that I am the one who decides what we do, where we go, and how long we stay."

Merlin took the reigns of his horse and looked down at the petulant prince, "Yes, I know you're in charge. There is no way I could forget that," Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes a little, "Well... come on then."

The knights were on their feet now, each very interested in the outcome. They were soaked and cold. Each looked ready to follow Merlin, but loyalty to Arthur meant that his will dominated their actions.

"If you don't come home, now, Arthur. I am going to tell Gaius," threatened Merlin in a matter-of-fact don't-challenge-me tone.

The wind picked up. They didn't have the right items to stay out in this, they needed tents. Merlin's lips were taking on a blue tinge and he was shivering in front of his master. He did not look as unhappy as the knights, but he was obviously suffering.

"Fine, but it is YOUR fault, Merlin. If you had packed and had been prepared for the weather then we wouldn't be heading back. This failed hunt – is your fault," snapped Arthur.

The royal hunting party, lead their mounts through the forest until they reached the trail that would lead them to warm hearths, warm food, and warm soft beds. Basically the entire motivation was fueled by the desire to be "not cold." Even a dollop-head would be able to understand the basic human need to seek comfort. A chill in the wet weather could bring the nastiest of colds. This could be more dangerous than being ambushed out in the wilderness. The strongest man could die from a cold.

Merlin did not moderate his horse's speed so that the others could easily overtake him and for some reason none of the knights, not even Gwaine, tempted to ride beside him. Arthur was cursing under his breath as he caught up to his manservant who only rewarded him with a side glance.

"What's the matter Merlin? Just because you didn't pack correctly you don't have to be so moody. You have the temperament of a girl," proudly stated Arthur.

Merlin tutted in response, but didn't provide an actual retort.

"Merlin? What's wrong with you?" this time the question was gentler without the insult.

Merlin sucked on his lips before answering, "You keep speaking, Arthur. You keep speaking without thinking. You proclaim without thinking. You decide without consideration. You demand without consideration. You need to realize things like this."

The skies opened up and it was raining heavily now, the weather distracted Arthur from replying to Merlin's piss laden little lecture. They dismounted and walked their mounts. Even if they found shelter, it would be to late. The water soaked party would be at the mercy to the wind and the increasing cold. Merlin kept his head bowed and eyes trained on the ground for any mount maiming tree roots.

Eventually the rain slowed down.

Merlin remounted his horse without looking to see if the others followed suit and it wasn't until after he moved through the gates of Camelot did he bother to turn his head to see that everyone was still following him.

"Merlin," began Arthur only to find himself interrupted by Leon.

"Sire, I think he might be unwell."

Oh how that would be a nice little solution to the problem, but there was no way. If Merlin wasn't enchanted then he was disenchanted with Arthur and his antics. It hurt. Merlin wasn't even offering to stable his horse, but the stable boy ran over and began collecting mounts, freeing the hunting party to go inside and find warmth.

Gaius handed Gwaine a hot cup of mulled cider. Gwaine had already changed out of his gear and into warm clothing. The storm had once again decided to rage and there was nothing better than to get something from the Court Physician to warm the insides.

Merlin hadn't returned yet.

Neither man said anything about the boy's absence. Instead they quietly sipped their drinks and chatted about the hunt. Details were glossed over. Gwaine only talked about what they got and what they ate. He mentioned Merlin's aversion to taking his share of the meat, but he didn't mention Arthur's scene about the boy's choice of supper.

They knew where Merlin was and what he was doing. He had tended the horses. He had to unpack his and put all that equipment away. He also had to run and fetch Arthur's dinner. He probably even had to provide Arthur with a hot bath to chase away the chills from the day. Merlin had to be with Arthur right now, working without stopping while soaking wet.

Gwaine would have rather of gone to the tavern, but he wanted to wait for Merlin. He wanted to make sure he saw his friend's face again before he swaggered into the Rising Sun. If Arthur could be smart or thoughtful, he wouldn't complain. He'd let it be. If he was smart, he'd just allow Merlin to do his job without any snide remarks.

If Arthur ever used his brain, if he could use his brain; now was the time.

When Merlin returned, his face told the story. He was tired. He was cold. He was angry. It was very apparent that Arthur hadn't been smart after all.

Gwaine sighed and gave his friend a sympathetic grin.

Merlin dashed to his room and came down a little later in clean dry clothes and a woolen blanket. Gaius handed him a cup of hot mulled cider which Merlin pressed into the side of his face.

"You okay mate?" asked the knight. Merlin smiled at him through a veil of exhaustion.

"I'm fine."

"You should have come back to change before you went to tend to Arthur," Gaius said while spooning out some hot porridge for Merlin's dinner. "I'm afraid this is all you are going to get tonight from me. I didn't expect you home until tomorrow."

Merlin's eyes lit up, plain porridge with honey was obviously perfect. It would be warming and he might just feel a little better. He sank onto a wooden stool and beamed at his mentor even if he was still clutching his wool blanket snugly against his frame. The big goofy smile that Gwaine had not seen in some time, still existed.

* * *

It wasn't until Gwaine left did the physician and his apprentice begin to talk earnestly. Merlin confessed that he wasn't feeling well and that now he seemed to be sensitive to smells. He admitted that he was tired all the time now and it did not seem to matter what he did during the day or how much sleep he did or did not get. Food wasn't helping. Food wasn't hurting, but he didn't feel any different after he ate.

He wanted to wave all of this off, but if experience had taught him one thing it was that if something wasn't right – it was better to get it off his chest as soon as he could. Gaius might not have understood what he was going through, but he loved Merlin. He knew Merlin and he still loved him. That was enough.

Gaius made no immediate comment, but from the look on his face one thing was clear – something was actually wrong. Merlin felt a pinch of worry wrinkling his brow before he forced himself to relax.

Destiny wouldn't allow him to be thwarted so easily no matter what was going on.

"Well?"

"Merlin, have you been in contact with any of the Druids lately?"

The boy shook his head as he resolutely stated, "No. Why? Do you think I'm enchanted or spelled?"

"No. No, Merlin. I don't think this is sorcery, however I do think it's magic. The druids know you more as a legend than as a man. Even the great dragon might be of use with this – if this is part of your destiny."

Merlin frowned as he retorted, "You know, Gaius, I get enough of the cryptic stuff from Kilgharrah and truthfully the druids are no more forthcoming with information than he is so I have no idea where this leaves me. If this gets worse, I don't know what I'll do. I can' barely make it through the day without feeling like I am going to fall asleep or be sick."

If Merlin was a female – if Merlin was a female who had time – and a young man … Gaius would have asked if there was anything going wrong with the monthly bleed. However, Merlin was still chaste, he was male, and there was no way he could have been pregnant so Gaius left that alone. The symptoms were so indicative of hormonal shifts, but with Merlin's magic – as undefinable as it was by its very nature?! There were no books to consult on Merlin's magic.

That night, for the first time in a long time – Merlin dreams of Nimueh.


	9. Chapter 9

_Nimueh _was dead. Long dead, by Merlin's own magic. The Old Religion a wondrous thing, but it had given to much power to impure and selfish magics. Nimueh, Morgause, and now Morganna was rising. Morganna. Just how much of the Old Religion was she able to absorb and use as her own? Certainly part of her advancements was due to her half sister, but Morganna's natural talent was that of the seer.

Gaius had often spent sleepless nights thinking about Merlin and his place in the world. The Old Religion showed favoritism to the priestesses that rose throughout the ages. Occasionally a talented sorcerer would climb to the top, but these sorcerers were never Priests of the Old Religion. Sigan had been a legendary wielder of power. He had been creative and extremely gifted – and Merlin had defeated him as well.

Certainly it helped to have a dragon behind Merlin to teach him the most difficult of spells and enchantments. It helped, but if that were all that was needed – Uther would have found them untouchable. However, Merlin's magic was different than any other human magic user than Gaius had ever known. It was natural. Instinctual. The boy mastered the most difficult of spells almost instantly, his instinctual magic managed to defeat Nimueh in the most frightening way, and most disturbingly – spells that would take a hideous amount of concentration seemed to provide no ill effects.

The boy has seen Avalon, the Crystal Cave, and had journeyed to the perilous lands.

Even though the boy's parentage was known, there were those few times when, Gaius doubted the boy was human at all. The druids called him Emrys and the druids knew some of what the great dragon knew. However, it wasn't enough to calm Gaius on nights like this, when his ward was convinced that the weather itself was yielding to Merlin's state of mind.

Creatures of magic were persecuted as much as anyone who had magic. Uther had given no quarter to the Old Religion. He struck a blow at it at any and every given opportunity. Attacks had become frequent. Most sorcerers were to weak, talent wise, to face the arsenal that Uther had at his disposal.

Rain beat mercilessly against the windows as if the storm were a demon begging to be let into the room. The night was cold enough to stir the stiffness into the bones of an old man's body. Nature was throwing a tantrum and the noise distracted Gaius from his thoughts. He felt an overwhelming need to help Merlin through this "illness" and no matter how much he tried to understand the problem, Merlin, he never could fully connect the concepts.

Eventually the rain grew silent, but the winds still raged.

"Merlin is a mystery," stated Gaius in his fondest voice as he glanced at his wards room.

Gaius, finally ready for sleep, walked around his chambers guttering the candles one by one. Tendrils of smoke aromatically lifted and snaked around him like wispy shackles. Merlin had made these candles when he was practicing to make his mother one of his care packages.

Merlin was like a jewel. The devoted son was a whole other facet to the Warlock who was by instinct blindingly beautiful. He would be a man capable of doing what no other could ever dream of, but learning how to make lavender candles had been as much of a priority as maintaining Arthur's happiness and existence.

lightning brilliantly lit up the room and a crash of thunder followed in quick succession. It wasn't the time of year to expect such a storm nor had the conditions been correct to give birth to such circumstances.

The castle rattled.

One candle left.

Gaius sighed, he knew would probably not sleep due to the noise, but he was going to lay down and give it his best effort.

Arthur burst into the physicians chambers accompanied by two guards.

More lightning lit up the room.

"Gaius, I need your counsel," said the future king in a voice that was heavy with fear and concern. The young man's face was shadowed in the dark. Gaius could not read his expression. Arthur was half begging and half commanding, "Look outside and tell me that isn't sorcery. Look outside, Gaius. Please."

The moon in all its glory, fought to show it's illuminated face through the canopy of clouds. Winds raged savagely. That much, had been expected. He already knew that the lightning and thunder were probably unnatural, but he hadn't been concerned. What really surprised the elderly, was the snow.

"Sire, it's snowing."

Arthur was at the physician's shoulder, slightly trembling, "Yes Gaius. I could see that for myself. What I'm asking is – is this storm sorcery? Please, Gaius. I'm not accusing you of sorcery. I'm asking about the nature of this storm."

Gaius picked up the last remaining candle and began using it to relight the other tapers in his chambers. Each lit candle allowed the elderly man to evaluate the royal. Nervous. He had obviously thrown on clothing as quickly as possible, since he was badly put together.

The lecture that he had given Arthur, at the very least, had been considered. Arthur was trying to be respectful of the court physician, but he was also desperate to get an answer. Since Gaius had doubled as an adviser to what could or could not be sorcery, he was in an awkward position for what he suspected about this storm would alarm the Pendragon. The truth weighed on his old tongue, but he spoke it anyway.

"This storm is unusual, Sire. That I am sure of," Gaius's voice was deep but soft as he delivered his verdict, "I do not know of any sorcerer who would ever be able to conjure conditions like this. There's never been any legend of any sorcerer with the talent or the ability. However, this storm – as I said, is not natural even though no one has conjured..."

Arthur cut him off, the royal was confused, "You're saying it's unnatural but that it isn't the product of sorcery? That doesn't make any sense, Gaius. How can that be?"

"The storm itself, Sire, I _suspect_ is Magic."

* * *

It had been a rough morning. Nightmares about Nimueh, followed by a cranky Gaius who hadn't gotten enough sleep, and topped by a paranoid Pendragon was not the way to begin the day. Merlin was frayed and vulnerable even before the emergency counsel meeting had been announced. As luck would have it, the meeting itself would make him feel so much more worse.

Merlin stood like a pale and sweaty pillar of angst behind his master as counselors and knights took their places at the round table. His job, according to Arthur, was simple, _keep goblets full and keep his mouth shut._ There were serving tables hidden behind draperies that he could duck behind to fill his pitchers. If Arthur noticed Merlin struggling to pour, he didn't say or do anything.

Having no time or no mind to do anything about his manservant's struggles, Arthur was trying to lead the conference to discuss the same subject that had been an on going issue throughout his entire life: Magic. He opened by acknowledging the weather and the strangeness that surrounded this storm. The lightning and wind mixed with a heavy snow, had never happened before. The bolts of the lightning were blue, red, and sometimes gold. If it weren't so frightening, it would be beautiful. Gaius had trust new ideas at him the night before and he was hoping that through collective intelligence: he might find the wisdom that would lead to how to deal with this new challenge.

Gaius stood when signaled and began to explain magic at Arthur's silent request, "My Lord," began the old man with a small bow towards Arthur, "thank you for giving me an opportunity to speak about sorcery and magic to the counselors and honorable knights. Sorcery is man's attempt to harness and access magic by use of words, rituals, and runes. They build totems, make enchanted objects, and beseech the gods of the Old Religion. Those who crave more power tend to dabble in the darker aspects of magic. They use magic for their own gain. They use creatures of magic to tap into greater powers to carry the burden of their greed or as instruments of their will. There were sorcerers who never misused magic and I'm sure that the ones who have survived the purge, are unknown and still practicing magic. That said, magic creatures do not have the same limits that sorcerers do."

The elderly physician took a drink from his goblet. His voice was hoarse from talking and he still had much to explain. He glanced at Merlin who was shivering in his boots and purposefully not making any eye contact.

"Magic Creatures are not Creatures of Magic. A unicorn is a creature of magic. A unicorn is purity incarnate. Innocence. It is hope. A manticora is a magical creature. A creature that was made using magic. It is a man made monster that has the head of man and the body of a lion and the tail of a scorpion. It is dark magic. It uses dark magic. It is hatred, injustice, greed, and its malevolence is channeled into the poison it uses."

Aggravaine began to laugh. The middle aged man's face was etched with amusement. He did not look apologetic at all that he had interrupted, "Gaius, is this some sort of," he gestured vaguely with his hand in a circular motion, "round about way for you to reintroduce us to a new way of thinking of magic now that our king, King Uther, is incapacitated? This is a unique way to stab his life's work in the back."

"My Lord, I'm sorry you feel that way. If you would like to try to explain the weather, feel free to do so," said Gaius politely as he sat down. Lord Aggravaine had effectively silenced him, but instead of looking upset or disturbed – the Court Physician had a small grin on his face.

The dark haired lord threw back his head arrogantly as he stated, "I don't see how making distinctions between unicorns and manticoras and discussing the intentions of sorcerers explains the weather. Obviously, as lovable as you are, Gaius, you're getting on in years. Your sense has become senseless and as endearing as that is – it doesn't help in these circumstances."

Arthur attempted to bring things to order, "Well if you had allowed him to finish, we would have found out. Gaius, if you would continue?"

The elderly man stood again and straightened out his fading robes, "Where I was going with my explanation is that there are things or creatures that are born of magic, like the unicorn. There are something that are made from the manipulation of magic like the manticora or the lamia. Cursed creatures. This storm is more like a unicorn. This storm is of magic, but it is not benign or malevolent. It just is."

Aggravaine beamed, "So you are saying there's nothing we can do?" He tapped his goblet impatiently and Merlin scurried over and filled the vessel with shaky hands.

"No. That is not what I am saying," explained the elderly man, "I'm saying that our best way to handle this is to wait. If the storm is of magic, we cannot slay it. Weather isn't something we can wear down, but it can wear us down. I do not know any one of any thing that's ever been able to control the weather like this. One thing would be hard enough but for all three? No. To conjure lightning, make it snow, make it rain, and control the winds for this amount of time would take an immense amount of power even if the sorcerer were using a vessel. This is unheard of – it's impossible."

"The priestesses of the Old Religion were considered to be creatures of magic, direct conduits to the gods. They were more than mere mortals by the end of their ceremonies," supplied Geoffrey of Monmouth.

"That is very true. The priestesses were formidable, but even they had to work in numbers or wait for days of the year when power would be more easily accessed. With Nimueh and Morgause gone, that leaves Morganna. Morganna does not have a mentor. She does not have the luxury of being able to contact other priestesses or working with them. She's incomplete. She will never be able to access power naturally. If she ever does possess great power, she most definitely will have had to descend into dark magic."

"Gone?" Arthur interrupted, "How do you know that they are gone?"

Gaius met the clear blue eyes of the young Pendragon and stated, "Nimueh was reported dead to me not long after your incident with the questing beast. Morgause was most likely the blood sacrifice that opened the veil that released the Dorocha . Morganna sacrificed her half sister in order to strike a blow to Camelot."

"Magic is truly evil," Arthur said with a shiver.

Gaius shook his head, "It was not magic that did that deed. They used magic, but it was not magic that was responsible. It was humans who were arrogant enough to meddle with forces that no mortal should dare think about nonetheless actually attempt."

Geoffrey coughed gently before he added, "I've done some research on the Dorocha. It is said that any one who releases them into the living world will be doomed. A creature of the Old Religion will not be able to ignore the one who tore the veil and that misfortune will be followed by an early death."

Aggravaine and Merlin both took sharp intakes of breath.

"Most of the creatures of the Old Religion are dead. We've killed them," explained Arthur as he dismissed the idea of Morganna receiving her just desserts by some equalizing force of magic.

"I'd like to believe that, Sire, but," Geoffrey said while flushing at the his own nerve for disagreeing with Arthur, "It says here..." he muttered as he took out a scroll and smoothed it out carefully. He glanced around quickly and then began to read, "And it will be he who walks in the shadows who will take his first steps upon the earth as thee Emrys. Named twice but unknown, he shall be the Doom to the one who tears the veil. He will be the Emrys Warlock. Magic in the flesh. No man will ever be as powerful or as wise. No man will ever love more or suffer less. Unrecognized in his glory until the glory leaks from within, unstoppable... and then the rest of the text is damaged. I cannot provide any more information about this Warlock. I had found this in a book of prophecy when I was looking for information about the Dorocha."

"Warlock?" Arthur asked.

Geoffrey answered, "It means liar. Well it means "oath breaker," those who have the greatest magic are Warlocks. They defy nature by being born magic so this Warlock's very being is like breaking the laws of nature. Apparently this Emrys is supposed to be the one and only true Warlock. It's an old term people used to use and throw around for male witches, but it means so much more than that."

Merlin was clutching the wall behind him. Gwaine stifled a chuckle as he toyed with the idea that anyone looking at him would of thought that he was afraid that this warlock thing was going to come and eat his soul. Merlin really was to much of an innocent.

"Didn't you ask me about Emrys," Gaius turned on Aggravaine, eyebrows reaching a new height in his inquiry.

"Uncle?"

"I did. Yes," confirmed Aggravaine. He was quick witted and the excuses came naturally, "I had heard that there was a Warlock named Emrys using magic from within Camelot, supposedly to help Camelot. Many people have different ideas about what 'help' is and I was investigating. We cannot have some insane vigilante running around inside Camelot, especially not the sorcerer sort."

"Well, Uncle, Apparently this Emrys is not a sorcerer and you are right to want to find him," said Arthur in approving tones.

The storm outside raged on.


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur had spent the rest of the afternoon with his father, Uther had lapsed into a strange place in his mind. He had started to mumble about the witch named Nimueh. Merlin had been excused until dinner – as he still wasn't fully forgiven for taking the lead about ending the hunting trip even though he had been right. However, there was no way to know that the weather was magical in nature and he hadn't prepared for rain. The idiot needed to think about things more carefully if he were to truly be a servant in the employ of the royal household.

"Pretty, but dangerous. I didn't know. I couldn't have known," Uther muttered a bit of drool accumulated around the edges of his lips. Some spilled down his stubble as he whispered, "I thought I knew."

To assume regency would be usurping his father's power, however it was becoming clearer every day that Uther would never be the king he once had been. He would never be the man who Arthur called father. His soul was leaving him a little more each day. His heart had been broken. Gaius had said that there was no known remedy for the damage that had been done.

It hadn't escaped Arthur's notice that Gaius did not put the entire blame on Morganna.

When Uther fathered her, he had effectively dug his future grave and even though Arthur was disappointed, angry, and felt as if he had been robbed of his sister – he could not demand justice. What his father was suffering, was punishment enough. All he could do was try to bring his father out of this personal hell or he would soon be watching his father die.

Uther's green eyes filled as he muttered, "I didn't know. I thought it would take the servant, but The Cup took Ygraine. Nimueh told me. A price. What a price. Seemed so easy. King's do not pay. She didn't know. He had tried to warn me about the nature of the magic, but I didn't listen. Magic murdered my wife."

It was as if a Dorocha had flown through Arthur as he realized that Morgause had revealed to him the truth. Merlin had been wrong. Morgause hadn't tried to trick him. His king, his father had been responsible for his mother's death. It was his bad judgment. It was his fault and for his mistake – he slaughtered anyone and anything that had magic. Despite that the first time this information had come to light, Arthur had been so angry that he had attempted to kill his father – this time he looked upon the broken man in front of him with pity.

"I told The Cup to take the servant's life," Uther repeated sadly. Tears formed in his eyes, but they hadn't spilled, "Why didn't The Cup take _his_ life?"

If his son wanted to get an answer, he wouldn't have been able to ask the question. He honestly did not want to know who his father tried to bargain, no sacrifice... he did not want to know who's life his father had tried to sacrifice. It was bad enough to know that his mother had been the sacrifice.

"Yyygrainne," whine Uther, clutching at his chest and rocking back and forth. Uther was crying in earnest now. Tears slid down his face as he relived his heart break.

"She's not coming back," Arthur said quietly to his father. His voice was heavy with sadness, "You murdered her."

His father, for just a moment, looked Arthur in the eyes with what seemed to be clarity. Eyes and nose running, lips trembling – his head slightly bowed as he muttered, "I know."

* * *

He had not planned on spending so much time with his father, but Arthur could not seem to rise from his chair for the longest time. Uther's suffering had been so heartbreaking and yet so...

Outside the king's chamber stood Merlin even though he had been given time to go to what ever it was that Merlin does. Other servants would have stood more formally, but Merlin wasn't like the rest of the castle staff. He wasn't like anyone else. He was leaning against the wall, with one foot up, pressing against the wall. His place face, bruised with the lack of rest was turned to the side as he watched – something or someone down the hallway. The thin frame shivered even though he was wearing his brown suede jacket. Over all, his physical self was a bit to long even though he was not obnoxiously tall like Percival, it had to be the slimness or the delicate bone structure.

There was something about Merlin that was beautiful. Not in the maidenly sense! It was as if he were some romantic figure, carved combined with a shabbiness that only extreme neglect and poverty could forge. There were times like these that he reminded Arthur of a living statue exquisitely displayed in his own frail misery. Arthur knew he wasn't feeling well. He gave up on the idea that his servant had been enchanted and now he worried that Merlin was just wearing out. Some servants did that after some time. Usually they were women who when after they became women would begin fainting and be unable to do the hard labor required of their station.

_Merlin had been wrong._

He wanted to call out to Merlin that he had been wrong about Morgause, but the corridor was no where to have that kind of discussion. Instead he half walked, half marched his way to his own rooms where Merlin hopefully had a meal waiting for him. He wanted a bath to chase off the chill. He wanted to sit in front of the fire and not bother with reports. Aggravaine would no doubt want to speak to him about the meeting and interrogate him about why he hadn't had a heads up before it had taken place.

_The idiot, that loyal idiot – had been wrong._

A red flash of lightning lit up the hallway and the boom was so .. physical.. he felt as if his teeth were loose. He cursed under his breath unsure if Merlin had done the same. Finally at his chambers, Arthur felt as if he could relax a little. It was strange. The room was comfortable, but the walk was almost as if he were heading to the gallows. Each step had been difficult for the safety here meant he would be able to speak freely and while he wanted to talk to Merlin, he dreaded it as well.

Some covered dish was waiting for him on the table. The fire was low, but the room was very warm. The heat felt good. Nothing was out of place and the floor looked decently clean – Arthur was a little disappointed. It would be hard to talk to Merlin without it being obvious that he wanted to talk. Arthur ignored his dinner even though he was glad to see that it was there. He sat into the cushioned chair in front of the hearth, "Merlin, grab a seat. Bring it here. We need to talk about something."

In his mind he could hear his friend say things like, "_You know I'm always right... I told you so... Why didn't you listen to me? I was right about that... I was right... You need to learn to listen as well as you fight... I was right, Arthur... _"

"...Arthur?"

Arthur sighed. He and Merlin had been at odds for so many weeks, but he needed his Merlin – his friend to be there for him right now. Even if Merlin was sick, he'd have to find a way to reach though to his friend because right now he needed to talk. He couldn't tell his mother's blood, his uncle, that his father had been responsible for his mother's death. Instead of being contrite and full of remorse, he blamed others. He had blamed magic. He took it out on his kingdom and removed something mysterious from his realm. Even if it had not been intentional, Uther was responsible and he had not taken responsibility even though deep down – he knew he was to blame.

Merlin dragged a chair over and lowered himself carefully onto it. He crossed his long legs at the ankle and laced his fingers together over where his stomach. Arthur stared at the straps on his friend's boots for a moment, wondering why the cobbler had wasted so much extra leather on frivolous decoration.

"What did you want to speak about, Arthur?" Merlin asked for the second time, his voice was soft and moderated with extreme patience.

Arthur swallowed and tried to reign in his feelings but a grim grin grotesquely took residence on his face, "It isn't like I'm happy about it, but I finally get the chance to tell you that you were wrong, Merlin. For once, I have proof you are an idiot."

"Arthur?"

Arthur raised his focus from his servants boots to his stormy blue eyes, "My father is responsible for my mother's death, Merlin. It wasn't an attempt by Morgause to turn me against him." The depths of blue were filled with compassion, understanding, and even regret – but there was no sign of surprise. Arthur's intestines quivered sickly as the truth dawned on him, "You already knew, didn't you, Merlin?"

"Yeah, I knew." He had _lied. _They both knew it. "You were ready to kill him. I couldn't let you kill your own father, Arthur. You were angry and you had every right to be angry. Tell me, would you be able to live with it? Would you be able to slaughter your father over his arrogance? He made an arrogant decision. He thought that he could command The Cup, but no mere man, even if he is a king, can command The Cup."

"I'm assuming Gaius told you the rest after the fact?"asked Arthur. He felt betrayed on level, but also protected. He wasn't a child!

Merlin nodded, "I asked him what he knew about The Cup of Life. It was a very interesting bed time story." The thin man sucked on his bottom lip before asking, "How did you find out?"

"My father has reached a whole new level of insanity. He is mourning his wife. He admitted to his crime," explained the young Pendragon who was staring at his own hands, "he turned his guilt into anger and he stained not only his hands, but mine as well in blood. The kingdom is dripping with his guilt."

"You didn't... yknow... kill him, did you?" anxiously asked Merlin who grinned when his friend shook his head no in answer. "Well that's good. I didn't like lying to you. I do not enjoy when I have to tell a lie, but I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. You do understand that, don't you?"

Arthur hadn't expected the conversation to have gone like this, but he was almost relieved that it had. He would rather find out that Merlin lied to protect him from doing something that he would regret than to find out that his friend had been wrong. However, he really didn't want Merlin having to lie to him. Knowing the truth was important. He didn't need Merlin to edit what information he was exposed to and what he wasn't. Truthfully, as much as there were times when he wanted Merlin to be wrong just to bring down the level of smugness that built up over time... he actaully would rather have Merlin be spot on.

"I'm not going to tell my uncle," Arthur admitted while leaning back his head to study the ceiling.

Merlin sighed, "Do you really honestly think that he has no idea?"

Arthur fought the urge to fidget. He didn't like the question. He said what he wanted to and had a hard revelation about his friend. He didn't want to discuss his uncle so he switched the subject to one that had been on his mind, "I'm glad we're not at odds anymore, Merlin. I know things have been stressful lately. You haven't been feeling well have you? I mean besides the not being able to eat properly because you're so busy being lazy."

Arthur had smiled his best teasing smile, but Merlin was frowning at him in his very un-Merlin-like way. Stormy blue eyes narrowed before the boy said, "You know, it would be funny if I failed at being a manservant, however I'm not treated like other manservants. Your father's manservant does not have to do half the things I do. For some reason I get to do half of the stable boys job. You have a trainer for your dogs and he is supposed to exercise them. You have scullery women who do the laundry for the castle but I'm responsible for yours – and yours alone. No one else but me has been maintaining the buttery, so I'm doing that job as well. Apparently the person who had that job has been let go. Tell me, Arthur, just how lazy I am?"

The blonde gave over to laughter much to Merlin's surprise. He snapped, "Should I tell you what I do for Gaius? I..."

"Merlin! Do you think I'd give you extra work if you couldn't do it? At first when you started working for me I was determined to make you hate the position and leave – but you manage all of your chores and extra. I'm serious when I say I can't train anyone to do your job." Merlin only blinked so Arthur continued on, "I thought you'd give up. I thought you'd tell me off and give me a reason to throw you in the stocks but instead you rose to each task. You have shown loyalty. Granted your loyalty is laced with insults and petulance. You can be girlishly moody, but you have your moments. And I'm reluctant to admit this but you do have your wise moments – when you aren't wrong. Do me a favor though? Don't lie to me to keep me from making a mistake. I don't want to live a lie."

Arthur was laughing.

Merlin wasn't. In fact Merlin was angry. "Arthur, you don't pay me enough to do all that work."

Arthur was still laughing.

Merlin sighed, "You can compensate me for the lack of pay. I need three days off."

"And why do you think you are going to get three days off? I've been rather generous considering your poor judgment lately, being sick, missing work in the mornings and sending George to wake me. I think I've been quite generous about the amount of time you miss without removing wages from your salary," snapped Arthur.

Merlin glowered, "I need to move my mother from Ealdor to Camelot. I finally found a place for her to live that I can afford. I want to do that soon."

"Merlin, look outside," Arthur said carefully, "We're under a magical attack. Granted it's just snow and a light show with wind, but what if it doesn't cease? What if it affects the crops? People could starve. I need you here with me now to be at my side as I solve this. After we get this straightened out, then you can have the time to move your mother. It hadn't occurred to me that you were going to move her here. I can't pay you that badly if you're going to be paying for your mother to stay here."

Merlin was still angry, but he didn't say anything. He just picked at the edges of his neckerchief before he said, "Your dinner is probably stone cold by now."

"I can eat it cold," stated the young Pendragon. "You have served me worse."

A knock at the door interrupted just when Arthur felt like Merlin understood and that he was still his friend – that there was a way through all of this. It was Leon.

"Sire, we have a problem." Leon's voice was grave as if he were about to tell Arthur something truly disturbing. "We have druids asking to speak to you and .. and we found something strange in the woods."

Arthur stood and smoothed out his tunic, "They are risking arrest to come and talk to me. It has to be important. I'll see them. Leon, what else is there. What's in the woods? Come on. Tell me."

"There's an area near Camelot. Very close to Camelot's gates that we never noticed before. Well there wasn't this snow here before either, but Sire. It's completely snow free. Everything is green. Everything is lush and growing. It's like a haven."

"It has to be magic," said Arthur grimly.


	11. Chapter 11

The snow was deep, but not as deep as it should have been. For some reason it did not accumulate much more than over the top of a man's anklebone – while wearing boots, of course. Just one more unnatural aspect. Leon, Elyan, and Gwaine led Arthur and Merlin out to the clearning of freshness and spring. It was a known fact that evil could imprint the earth. Evil people when buried would have barren graves, where not even weeds would grow. Evil deeds scorched the earth, defiling it – making it barren. It was unheard of that a place like this could exist. It was almost a spiritual experience to venture into the lush green area, where life was abundant in an almost grotesque quantity. Animals of the forest, confused by the storm had congregated in this area which seemed to extend over an entire square mile. Arthur could hear the wind and the thunder, but he could not feel it. lightning lit up the sky, but no creature here crouched in fear. There were no signs of predation even though there were predators amongst the animal refugees. It was bizarre.

Merlin leaned against a tree as Arthur and the knights investigated the place. He slid down onto his bottom, arms wrapped around himself – his pained expression had been noted, but Arthur thought that he had been afraid of the forces that had created such a place. The young Pendragon commented as much, delighting as his manservant squirmed. He chided the boy. This place was more holy than hellbent, he claimed. He even stated he wasn't sure if it had been magic. Even if he was wrong about magic, he wasn't wrong about Merlin's fear. Merlin was very much afraid, but not of magic. He was afraid of the meaning of the magic – for it was his magic that had done this.

_Three sausages and two boiled eggs. A bit of cheese helped on colder mornings to keep Arthur happier for longer peroids of time. _

How long ago was it that he had purged his power for the sake of being able to be vulnerable? How much power had he purged just to be able to think emotionally and venture down a human pathway of feelings safely just for a few hours? Was this really the spot? It was, he knew it was. He could feel it. He did not want to know this. He did not want this to be true. It had been selfish and foolish to let an undirected, unrestrained amount of power out into the world and this was the result. He could feel his magic around him. It pulsed through every blade of grass, every leaf, and every flower. It was comforting, but it was terrifying. It was like seeing his own heart beating after it had been torn out.

_Cleaned the leech tank six months ago, it could use another maintenance scrub soon._

It was so hard to wait for them. It was just a matter of time before they discovered his magic and when they did – _would they even think of this? What was it that they called a sign of magic? Unnatural? A warlock is unnatural, an oath breaker to the laws of nature? A.. creature of magic._ Merlin's heart began to flutter wildly as his thoughts churned. He tried to capture his worries. It wouldn't do him any good to continue._ The boots were polished. Armor was polished. Did he bother with the furniture or did he use magic due to the lack of time? _ He couldn't remember. He bit his lip. His own magic surrounded him, he could smell it. It didn't smell bad. It didn't smell human at all. It was fresh like a spring day. Gwaine was laughing. He shouldn't be laughing. It was his smell, Merlin's smell. Merlin didn't smell funny. Arthur's jackets smelled like spoiled foods.

_Bought three jars of pickled eggs for Gaius and a side of salted cured meat._

He had purged his magic before, but he'd never gone back to look. What if.. what if he had been leaving a trail? What if Arthur recognized some of those spots? How many times had it been just the two of them? If the gods would only help, but they weren't about to intervene. Merlin had.. no.. was magic. Bile rose in the boy's throat and his vision clouded with hot tears.

What if he moved his mother here just so that she could see him executed? Was his time soon?

_Bought mother three jars of honey and a barrel of barley for her new place._

They were leaving and that was good. Merlin stood and scrambled to walk beside Arthur. Hunched against the cold, he shivered every time lightning struck. He gasped with every boom of thunder. The knights weren't that much more bold about being out in a magical storm. Arthur, as always, had his chest puffed out and his hand on the hilt of his sword. That bravado really didn't translate to threats of magic, but Merlin wasn't about to point that out right now. He wasn't going to discuss the finer points. Arthur might still consider them close enough to discuss his father's transgressions and crimes, but Merlin kept his own secrets close. It would never be the right time to tell Arthur that he had magic. Even if Arthur did somehow understand that it wasn't evil, how could he ever just turn around and plainly admit that he had been brazenly breaking the law all these years?

Tears dripped down his nose as he hung his head to avoid the wind.

The druids were waiting and Merlin wasn't sure if they wanted to talk to Arthur or if they wanted Emrys to overhear what they had to say. He wanted to be done with all of this, right now. He didn't want to hear anything more. He wanted to go to Gaius and tell him about this green place. He wanted to complain. He wanted to reverse it. He wanted to erase all evidence of the tantrum that followed. Only he would have to pre-plan being emotional.

What was it that Arthur was saying? Find the person responsible? Oh keep wishing. There's no way anyone's going to be claiming that as theirs. No sane person, even before the purge would claim making that. Explaining the creation of such a place – no. No one would be proud of that. Not even the high priestesses would put their names on it. Power like that, wasn't human. Merlin knew that deep down. He could admit to Gaius what was inherently wrong with his magic, but no one else. Well, maybe Kilgharrah.

Kilgharrah. Where was HE when he was needed? There's been no sign or scent of the dragon anywhere. Merlin had told him to make himself scarce but this was ridiculous. It wasn't right to gain his freedom and then just leave without showing some sort of support for the person who showed him mercy. Merlin didn't necessarily mean that Kilgharrah couldn't go where he wanted now, but if they were kin. If deep down that dragon was his brother on the soul level, then when the hell was he going to start acting like family and give him a little support that he did not have to beg for? It would be nice.

_Arthur's new brown jacket has seven buttons... _it wasn't working. Power surged in Merlin's chest. He could feel the flow of it from his heart to his fingers and back again. His entire being felt electric and alive. The hair on his body was standing up straight.

Arthur was shouting and everyone was running, but Merlin couldn't move. He was thinking in dragon tongue now and trying to understand what was being shouted. Something was wrong if there was so much noise, but was that actually noise? Merlin was confused. He watched as his four friend's dashed towards the castle, but he just stood there. Arthur turned his head towards him. His eyes were full of horror, he turned to run back towards Merlin. He was shouting. His hand was outstretched. Leon tackled him.

The snow and wind increased or had it? No. The lightning was striking the ground and his friends were running for cover. That made sense. It wouldn't do to be struck by lightning. Merlin smiled, he finally understood something.

Merlin barely had time to think about what was happening. He forced himself to take a step. Gwaine had now stopped and turned. Elyan grabbed him by the shoulders and Gwaine was being pulled towards the gates. Leon was similarly handling Arthur dragging him backwards even though the royal was trying to break free.

_I'm on my way, _thought Merlin.

Leon's beard was icy with tears.

Merlin took another step and then his whole world flashed in a blinding, brilliant, and gorgeous gold.

* * *

He should have left Merlin behind. He had been sick for a while and now he'd been drug to that strange place in the woods, but Merlin had made that comment. He'd complained about how much he was paid. He didn't have any special talents. (Guinevere at least was a seamstress, while she worked for Mogranna she was paid more than Merlin simply because she had a skill.) If Arthur had listened to his gut and had left Merlin behind, this would not have happened. Merlin had been nervous, he looked really shaky. He even looked emotional and Arthur didn't really blame him. Even though it was green and calm, it was eerie. A calm haven in the midst of insanity. The magical storm had raged on, but there were no land strikes of the lightning. There was no vast amounts of snow. If this was a siege, it was actually quite weak. Only the wind and the temperature were troublesome, but winter was around the corner anyway. It wasn't as if the storm was interrupting anything important. However, Merlin was ill and he never did want to talk about magic even if he did voice occasional outrage at how Uther enforced his laws, _You mean like executing __anyone_ who even _passes a sorcerer on the street_? 

_Oh, Merlin._

The only explanation was that he was so bothered by being in the green haven, that he wasn't paying attention on the walk back. The sudden build up of that fuzzy, prickly electrical feeling that happens when wool is rubbed and then metal is touched. It usually happens in the wintertime. That sensation was unpleasant in the rawest sense and it sent Arthur and the knights into a run. Arthur called out to run even before he realized that the words were escaping his mouth. Overwhelmed with a primal fear that no amount of training could have squelched, his body lurched forward into a run.

Oh why hadn't he run?

He was almost at the gates when he realized that Merlin wasn't with him. Merlin had been on his left and there was silence where there should have been snow crunching footfalls, a heavy breath, or any other sound of effort from a person running! He turned to see Merlin standing. He hadn't even run. He wasn't even walking. He was standing there like a pale statue. The wind blowing back his short dark hair – skin pink, still Merlin. Looking childishly lost in the snow as if he didn't understand why his friends were running away. Arthur twisted his body and his feet slipped a little. He reached towards Merlin as his weight finally found it's center, but Leon had grabbed him from behind. He pulled against his motion. He pulled him away from Merlin.

Merlin watched and tilted his head as if trying to understand.

Arthur called out to Gwaine, but he was being restrained as well. Gwaine was cursing and threatening Elyan, but he also was not being released. Arthur knew this had all taken place in mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity. They were wasting time. He had to get back to Merlin and make him move. Merlin took one small step and then another. They could feel the charge in the air strengthening. Merlin's eyes widened and he – smiled.

He had _smiled._

Arthur swore his heart had stopped, but he hadn't been hit. The flash had erased the world from his vision for a few moments. He wasn't sure if he closed his eyes or not. He could feel the heat and he and his knights were thrown back, but not from the strike.

Merlin lay in the snow.

Arthur finally managed to wrench himself free from Leon. He didn't stop to look at his friend. He picked him up and slung the light weight over his shoulder and ran for the castle. Leon, Elyan and Gwaine ceased to exist as Arthur's legs propelled him forward towards the castle. It surprised him that he even knew where to go, but Gaius was someone who was also engrained into his knowledge. The injured went to Gaius. Must quickly immediately go to Gaius. Gaius would know what to do. Gaius would fix Merlin.

Oh gods, _Merlin._

Some servant was in the way, but Arthur did not slow down or notice. If he was yelling like a wounded beast as he ran up the stairs - he was yelling for Merlin, who obviously could not do much of anything on his own. His burden barely weighed a thing as adrenaline powered his muscles forward, faster, and more sure than wet boots on polished stone had ever achieved in the history of wounded friends. To hell with decorum. To hell with the rules. To hell with nobility and honor. He didn't know if anyone was running with him. He didn't care. He just thought of Merlin, his precious and most sincere friend.

He kicked the door to the physician's chambers open startling the occupant within.

Arthur blanched for a moment due to the look on Gaius's face. It was a look that he hated. The kind of look that peasants get when they blame you for hurting someone they love. The look that flashes when the fires are lit or the gallows are erected. That blaming, it's your fault it happened anyway...type of look. As quickly as it appeared it faded. Arthur wasn't sure if it was there or not. As instructed, he deposited Merlin on a cot and quickly got shoved away as Gaius descended on his patient. Again, he did not look at his manservant. He couldn't. He had to keep his wits about him. He couldn't look. Gaius was issuing commands. Leon was there. He pulled at Arthur's shoulder, the bad one. The shoulder the great dragon had once ravaged with it's mighty claws. He didn't resist. Gwaine dashed down the stairs with two buckets. Elyan stood frightened like a small child, out of breath. Tears streaking down his face in an unmanly fashion.

Gaius barked at them one last time and turned his back. He bent over his ward.

Elyan and Leon grabbed Arthur under his elbows and escorted him out. Leon was speaking, but what ever gibberish was coming out of his mouth – Arthur had no idea. He didn't want to leave Merlin and he didn't want to see Merlin. He did not fight his knights. He allowed them to walk – half drag him back towards his chambers. Leon issued orders to some one along the way. Servants were dashing down corridors. One pretty little maid with a basket of flowers bowed and then ran from sight. Arthur wondered for a moment where she would have gotten them with the snow on the ground, but that thought was chased away as George caught up with them. He was annoyingly verbal. Several other servants joined them.

As soon as he was in his chambers, George and two other servants started stripping him of his armor. He swatted a few times at their hands, but the more he did the more George kept talking. Arthur looked for Leon and Elyan, but they were already gone. _Good._ The bath was being set up. Two servants were running for water. Arthur sat naked on a chair as George scrubbed at his upper body with a harsh soap. He flung the used wash rags into a spare bucket and issued commands at the other servants who ran to do his bidding.

_Merlin could never pull that off._ _Merlin... _

Finally Arthur was pulled, pushed, and shoved unceremoniously into the bath which wasn't at the ideal temperature. George poured something into the water and then went back to scrubbing him down as if he were a small child back from making mud pies.

Arthur's shoulder hurt.

George sniffed and then sniffed again. The stand-in manservant's eyes were red rimmed and overly bright.

More servants came into the room and scooped up Arthur's clothing and armor. The door didn't slam, but it certainly wasn't the typical exit from his chambers. There was no bowing. No backing out of the room respectfully. It was as if Merlin had infected them all. George was holding a towel and beckoning Arthur to get out of the water – so he did.

Soon Arthur was toweled off and redressed in his most casual and comfortable clothes. He sat quietly staring at the empty chair that was near his at the hearth. The chair that just a bit ago that Merlin had sat in while they talked about his father, Merlin's mother, and Merlin's pay. Merlin's honesty. Merlin's loyalty. Merlin's interference. Yes, Merlin had pulled off that half of the conversation in that chair.

Arthur stared at it as if … oh gods what was that smell?

It was the smell of blood, burnt flesh and burnt hair. It was sweat, urine, and feces. It was the smell of the pyre without the wood. It was... Merlin.


	12. Chapter 12

"Put the kettle on, Gwaine. Remove your armor, you don't need it right now. Tell me everything that you can about what happened," said Gaius with a tremble in his voice as the knight paced near the door.

Gwaine told Gaius everything as he fumbled to do as instructed even though he was terribly shaken. The sound of scissors snipping, metal and cold water heating, and Merlin's gurgling breaths mixed into some kind of terrible chorus. Three male servants, who had obviously had just been running, respectfully entered the chamber and offered assistance.

"I'll need freshly boiled rags, towels, and sheets," grumbled Gaius who once again trembled before he continued, "a bathtub... get me the unpopular kind, the flat one... Oh and warm water. I also need someone to get an armful of fresh mint. Just the plant, not the roots!" He had to yell out the last part for the servant who took that assignment started running before Gaius was finished speaking.

After the servants had put everything Gaius could possibly need within arms reach, he gently shooed them out of his chambers. He placed bottles in the hands, instructions in the minds, and a purpose for their uneasy hearts – as he recommended that their care would best be spent on Leon, Elyan, and Arthur. Those three children, in the elderly physician's eyes, needed their nerves soothed more than he did – he had seen lightning strikes before. This wasn't as bad in honesty, Merlin hadn't been blown out of his boots and his clothing, tattered and smoldering, was basically in tact. The burns on the bottom on his feet were quite dramatic and Gaius suspected that some of the boy's bones had cracked. A jagged pattern of cauterized burns decorated the normally flawless skin. Blood vessels had burst below the skin's surface, making Merlin's appearance more grotesque than human.

Gaius sighed, _Merlin's jacket had been completely ruined, he would be very upset about that._

It had been a time consuming process, but Merlin's tortured body couldn't take much more trauma. It took a delicate hand and a bit of detachment to deal with these kind of injuries. Gaius had half rolled Merlin onto his side so he could soak the last few remnants of cloth that had been cauterized into the boy's delicate flesh. He pulled a strip of cloth, leaving a weeping wound when Merlin hissed in pain. Merlin moved as far away as the cot would allow, his arms going over his head.

"Stop! Leave me alone! It hurts! It hurts!" whined Merlin who started to flail in self defense.

Gaius called out to Gwaine, "Help me, I need to dose him with the pain killer."

The secret warlock pushed away from Gwaine, who had only tried to touch his hand. The boy's confusion and agony was etched into every movement. His breaths were still gurgled. He coughed, moaned and sobbed – however he was putting up a good fight against the knight who was attempting to be gentle with his injured friend.

"Gwaine, you need to manage him before he damages himself!" reprimanded Gaius as he looked for his freshest batch of pain killing willow bark water blended with enough Valerian to render even someone like Merlin unconscious for the next few hours.

Merlin, as slightly built as he was, was not weak. He shoved at Gwaine with unfocused eyes. The boy was filthy, naked, injured and in unimaginable pain – and he still had the strength to struggle. The knight's heart was breaking as his friend, his dear friend, kept yelling, "You're hurting me. Don't touch me!"

"He's in _pain_ anyway, Gwaine. Restrain him! Before he does himself any more damage!" commanded Gaius, who had just wrapped his finger around the bottle he'd been looking for so desperately.

Just as Gwaine got the nerve to hold down the boy... just as he went to crush this precious person against his chest and keep him there until Gaius could render him unconscious – the unthinkable happened.

"Pfht! Kfeeeeee! RrreeEEEeeeeee!" screamed Merlin at his _botherer._

"GAIUS!" yelled the handsome knight, who held his hands up in surrender as a small black cat in full agitated fluff howled warnings. Bright white teeth flashed against pink as the small black mouth opened in another chorus of feline fear. "Gaius! Oh gods, Gaius!"

Merlin's little hindlegs walked forward while one front paw held his weight. One paw with silvery claws slashed at nothing. He was putting on quite the show of aggression. "Pffht! Kffiisssssssssss!"

Gaius tutted. His face had paled, but there was no indication of surprise. He struggled to keep things under control, "Catch him, Gwaine!"

"But Gaius, he... he..!"

"I can see that, Gwaine. Catch him before he does more damage to himself! He's still Merlin and he's still injured!"

Merlin's feline form was larger than a kitten, but was still not a full grown cat. His transformation had also carried over his injuries. Even though his fur was standing on end in agitation, bald spots of injuries showed through. Growls mixed with pops of bravado, the little cat bounced side to side – ready for battle. Gwaine went to grab him by his scruff, but Merlin was quicker than his handsome friend. He leapt off the cot and ran under the potion cabinet.

"Oh no," the face palmed physician moaned.

"Pfht!" popped Merlin followed by a low growl and moan.

Gwaine got down on the floor on his belly and started to beg the cat... errr Merlin... to come out. "Come on, mate. I won't hurt you. I just want to help you." He snaked his hand under the cabinet and pulled it back striped with red bloody lines. "He scratched me, Gaius! He actually scratched me!"

"He's afraid," explained the old man as if this was perfectly normal and made perfect sense. Gwaine made his voice sweeter and kinder as he kept imploring to his friend to come out from the cabinet. He pushed his hand into the crevice once again, but instead of attacking Gwaine – Merlin made a run for it. He dashed out in all of his frenzied feline glory. Little legs scrambling despite the injuries to the pads of his feet. Merlin let out little "ooms" of pain as he ran. Gwaine dove after his friend, knocking chairs over. He bashed his head into a small table. His reward for his effort was a shower of dried herbs and one pissed off hissing furry ball danging from his hand.

Merlin's paws were still but raised as the grip had frozen all his movements. The growling continued, but it was quieter than before. Gwaine noticed that the tail was as puffed at it could be for such a small cat.

"Phhft!" complained his friend.

"Well you might as well give him a bath. If he's in this form it might be easier to get him clean." said Gaius pointing to a bucket of soapy water that was initially for Merlin's sponge bath before he was set into the soaking tub.

"Me? Don't you want to?" Gwaine asked still holding Merlin at arms length by the scruff. The handsome knight looked as if he couldn't believe what he was doing.

"We might lose him in the transfer from person to person and I don't think I want my chambers wrecked by another attempt at capture," the old physician said and then more fondly he scolded Merlin, "I told you that you were to protect your magic with your life and here you are transforming in front of your friend. You're a troublesome young man!"

"Pfht! Keeeeeeeerrrrrrroooowwwww!" cursed Merlin in the feline tongue before adding, "Grrrrrrrrrrwwwwww"

"Oh hush."

Gwaine turned and looked at the bucket and then his friend. The handsome knight grimly smiled, "Sorry mate."

* * *

Aggravaine couldn't leave the castle. Morganna couldn't visit. The storm raged on and even though it didn't seem dangerous – it was magic. It wasn't good to test it by using your own body. Even though some of the knights had ventured out and braved the storm – he wasn't about to do it. There was something menacing about the magic that was displaying itself. He could only think of one person and one person alone who would be capable of this – Emrys. Somewhere in Camelot, there was the legendary warlock leaking magic. Churning the heavens themselves in uncontrollable fits of power.

It didn't take long for the news that Merlin had been struck by lightning to reach him. The whole castle was buzzing with gossip. Whether or not he was dead or alive, did not matter. What mattered was that it was confirmed that it was not safe to venture outside. The whole castle was in a panic. Some of the peasants dared to dash outside from building to building and managed to do so without being struck, so the logic dictated that anyone who tried to leave the citadel would be attacked.

The druids had come and would not speak to him. They insisted that they be given an audience with Arthur not Aggravaine. They managed to enter the citadel, but they had magic. They practiced a nature bound, loving, form of magic that probably went unnoticed by Emrys.

Emrys, for some reason, was doing this to them. He would pay.

Even if it was an attempt to keep Morganna from speaking to insiders, it was a pretty grand and desperate display. There would be no way that any magic user would be able to maintain this kind of magic for a long time. It still left so much unanswered. All he could do was guess, but he had to be sure of himself. He wouldn't be able to help Morganna if he were dead, so he decided to wait and watch.

Emrys might be vulnerable right now. He might make a mistake and reveal himself.

If Arthur hadn't gotten fried, at least it had been that meddlesome boy who's eyes saw to much and who's ears heard to much, who had gotten blasted. One less obstacle in the way. He'd have more freedom of movement now with Merlin taken out of the picture. Even if the boy lived, he wouldn't be in a good way.

Somehow, he had to make this work to his advantage.

* * *

The black cat growled, " grrmmm grmmmmr grrmmmm grrrmmmm," every time Gwaine rubbed with the towel. It was obvious that something was wrong with the left fore-paw. Merlin let out the loudest complaints when it was agitated, but a soak and a scrub in the bucket with several rinses left the kitty with much less to say than before. He was still hostile, but wrapped in a towel and pressed against his friend's chest – didn't leave him much room to complain. The young and the wounded have much in common, when to much has happened all at once – both quickly succumb to sleep.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," muttered Gwaine.

Gaius was concerned that Gwaine might actually have enough time to register that the creature he was holding was really his friend and that his friend had been keeping secrets. Magic was not something people spoke about, but the two were close enough that Merlin had expressed some regret that Gwaine did not know. He hadn't said much more about it since Lancelot had died, but Gaius knew that Gwaine was trusted. What ever concerns he had about the knight flew like smoke up the chimney when the knight's expression turned to pure fondness when Merlin nodded off accompanied by a soft purr.

"I think his wrist might be broken. Lightning can break bones," explained Gaius as he pointed at the tiny swollen paw.

"Uhm," the knight blushed, "Is he a cat turned human or is he a human turned cat?" Gentle fingers rubbed the area right between Merlin's eyes. A favorite sweet spot of most domesticated cats.

The physician started to laugh, "Oh my dear boy. You suprise me. Merlin is not a cat by nature. He turned himself into a cat. He probably did it without realizing it. He wasn't himself when he transformed." Old fingers plucked around a table looking for distraction, "You're not going to say anything are you?"

It was Gwaine's turn to laugh, "About his magic? Are you kidding? No way. I'm not thrilled that he didn't tell me about it before turning into this little piece of nastiness. He did scratch me, but I'd not turn him in for magic because of a few scratches." A few scratches indeed. Gwaine was covered in scratches. His face, arms, and hands – all bore the marks of an unsatisfactory run in of the feline kind.

"Actually he was probably easier to handle like this," Gaius commented.

"What if someone comes to see him?"

Gaius sighed, "For now the door is locked, hopefully he changes back before that happens. When he does change back I'll have to dress his injuries and tend to his wrist. I'd like to do it now, but I don't want to put anything like a splint on him if he's going to turn back without warning. It would hurt.

Gwaine nodded as his imagination explored possibilities.

"For now, why don't you take him up to his room? Put him on the bed. We'll lock him in and hope that instinct works for him. He's a very fast healer, but we cannot risk anyone noticing.. things."

"I'm so glad he's alright," Gwaine said after he had put Merlin in his room and closed the door behind him, "I'd take a thousand more scratches and bites if it meant a faster recovery."

The physician motioned him over and began to tend to his wounds. He tutted over the quantity of little scratches that Merlin had inflected. One by one, the lacerations were dabbed with honey while the two men spoke of friendship, danger, and magic. Gaius shared all he knew about Merlin and his magic. He told about his heroism and his responsibilities. He shared the legend. His suspicions. His secret sorrows about Merlin being his nephew and how dangerous even that knowledge was in Camelot for Gaius at one time was a known practitioner of magic.

"Merlin might be magic, but he's been alone because he is unique. I might have known about his magic – but I've been alone because I could not share my worries. It seems that destiny has chosen that you should know the truth and be a comfort to us both," Gaius said fondly.

Gwaine had never felt more accepted in his entire life.

* * *

Arthur ended up sleeping through the rest of the day and throughout the night thanks to the potion that Gaius had supplied to the staff. It was only a half of day of rest, but it was time where his body could relax. His mind would not be filled with images of his friend being struck due to the dreamless properties of the potion. George had not left the royal alone since he dosed him. There was always a handpicked maid or serving boy to grace the antechamber next to Arthur's bedroom, when and if George had to leave the young Pendragon.

It took forever to remove the bits of Merlin that had embedded itself into Arthur's chainmail, but he finally managed it. He worked hard to remove the smell from the room. Two maids had taken on the task of cleaning Arthur's clothes and although they looked like they were going to cry – George let them.

No one told Merlin, but his presence in the castle had improved life for all of them. While it was true that he worked harder than anyone else – he also smiled more than anyone else. He was truly a kind person and no one was jealous of his appointment to Arthur. His good nature had some how calmed the young Pendragon, who was less cruel and more thoughtful these days. His polishing techniques may not be perfect, his timing might not be great, but his heart had touched everyone around him.

George was glad that Arthur was upset. He didn't have the courage to say it, but there was a little bit of satisfaction that came with Arthur's tears. Arthur had made his brother run with a target while he threw knives at him once. It was the day that Merlin had stepped into their lives. David had quit the job as soon as he could. He became valet to another lord and had left Camelot. Merlin soon stepped in as manservant after that. George had been afraid that he would end up as manservant to the future king and while he could do his job "perfectly" there were many things that Arthur demanded that was not in the job description.

He would never want Arthur to suffer, nor did he want Merlin to die. He was just glad that the man who would one day lead the kingdom had learned how to genuinely care. That gave George hope for the future. However, the future was still far away while Uther still lived. George started to clean as quietly as he could. He sent out Arthur's boots to other servants who waited in the hallway. They all wanted to help. They wanted to do what ever they could to get through this so that Merlin had less to do when he returned. They all prayed that he would return healthy and with the same goofy grin that always graced his face.

* * *

Merlin lay on his back, his short dark fur perfectly dry now was smooth. His paws were tucked but yet hanging in the air as he slept, unaware of all the good will and love that was poured into thoughts and prayers for his well-being.

* * *

Sigh...probably not what you were expecting, but the scene wrote itself.

This is the ONLY way I wanted Gwaine to find out about Merlin's magic

in this story. It was the only thing that made sense.

Merlin's not out of the woods yet. He's still injured and up to his neck in

trouble.

Love it? Hate it? Think it needs a rewrite? Lemme know.


	13. Chapter 13

The elderly physician mixed one of his noxious medications into a hot cup of water before downing the nasty mixture. To say that his nerves had seen better days – would indeed be an understatement. He smacked his lips together once before undertaking the task of putting together a stomach lining breakfast. He would need every ounce of strength that his body could summon in order to see this day through. It was just yesterday that he thought his whole world had turned to ash, but Merlin defied death – again.

The first time Merlin had defied mortality, he had not even been living in Camelot for more than a few weeks. King Bayard had been visiting. There had been that business with the chalice and the Mortaeus flower petal poisoning. Nimueh had noticed Merlin. He had thwarted her plan to bring Uther to his knees by tampering with the water supply with an Afanc so she had sought to remove him from this life. Arthur had felt honor bound to repay his servant's loyal act of drinking the poison himself by seeking the antidote from the caves of Balor. However Nimueh had been waiting for him and had tormented the young Pendragon. By the time he had returned, King Uther had been livid. His son had disobeyed him and he threw his only son into the dungeons. Even though Gwen smuggled the plant, which had been crushed by King Uther and trodden upon, Gaius had delivered the antidote moments to late. Merlin's heart stopped and his breath ceased, his boy had died. As Gwen dissolved into grief and Gaius's heart had been ravaged by grief, Merlin awakened far more pertly and alert than should have been possible.

Gaius never revealed to Merlin those extra details and even though Guinevere had seen – she had not realized what had happened. Merlin had _died_ and Merlin had_ lived_.

It wasn't long after that that Aulfric and his daughter Sophia, two Sidhe in mortal human bodies, had come and had tried to buy a ticket of immortality for Sophia. Merlin had been able to follow them to Avalon without any spell or enchantment. Avalon, the gateway between this world and the next that only few would be able to glimpse on their way to the other world. Avalon – where no mortal was allowed and no human sorcerer could possibly hope of visiting. Yet Merlin had been and he hadn't even the wit to be impressed or awed. Instead he appreciated the Sidhe for their beauty and magic - and then swiftly categorized them as a threat to Arthur's well-being.

The second time, had been just yesterday. Merlin had been dead at the time when Arthur lay him on the cot. For some reason, Gaius denied it. He had pressed cool cloths against the burns and had sent Gwaine off for water. He prepared to treat Merlin as if he were still living as if compelled unreasonably – and then the boy began to breathe again. This time there was no cocky little comment as Merlin... By the gods themselves, it shouldn't have been possible. There was no magic being able to thwart death itself, but Gaius had just witnessed it for the second time.

It was frightening.

Merlin's strength had recovered enough for him to transform and behave very badly in front of Gwaine.

The boy was instinctively attuned to magic and quickly mastered every spell he dared to learn. His studies did not make him more powerful, but they did help the boy focus his magic. There were less incidences of spontaneous magical happenings and that was reason enough alone to allow Merlin to continue his studies of the banned practice. The saving Arthur part, the birth of Albion? That was all a bonus. Enabling Merlin to control his great power was a must - even though the boy had lately been wondering about his magic and his destiny. Even though the boy was convinced that he needed tighter and more precise mental and emotional control over himself in order to keep his magic from manifesting something, Gaius was sure that Merlin was a good boy. Merlin might sometimes refer to himself as a monster or a freak, but Gaius knew better. There was no one more dear or brave than his boy.

He wanted to deny that Merlin had died from the poisoned chalice. He wanted to say that he had been mistaken about the boy's functions ceasing, but the evidence was there. Now thanks to yesterday, he was more sure about it.

Gwaine lay on one of the cots, handsomely posed, deeply immersed in potion enhanced sleep. The young knight's company had been a comfort last night. It was nice to talk about Merlin openly. Most of the conversation, Gaius bragged about Merlin's selflessness and his greatness. He spoke about all sorts of things that related to the boy, but he did not mention the unnatural resiliency. That was not a topic that the elderly physician wanted to talk about with someone who just discovered Merlin's magic.

Magic itself was hard enough to explain without having to delve into the unknown factor that seemed to shroud Merlin himself in mystery.

One thing was certain, Merlin was badly injured. If it was his destiny keeping him alive, then it was Gaius's job to keep him from being permanently damaged. Even men who were not whole could survive and Merlin deserved more than to just serve and survive. What Gaius wasn't sure of was whether or not he should mention this to Merlin. The boy was reckless. He might assume that he could always defy death and if he was wrong – Gaius would be shattered. It was bad enough Merlin was always willing to offer his life for Arthur's. He would have exchanged himself in an instant without hesitation. Gaius decided not to tell him. Merlin didn't need to know.

Gaius woke Gwaine after he had finished making breakfast and then went to check on the boy who had been occupying his thoughts. It was a relief to see that Merlin had transformed back into himself during the night. He looked – better. In face, Merlin almost looked normal. The boy was shivering under a sheet even though the room wasn't all that cold.

"Merlin?" Gaius sat on the side of the bed and shook the shoulder of his ward, "Merlin? Wake up. How are you feeling?"

A groan answered him, "Did I over sleep again?"

"I think you have the day off, Merlin."

Merlin sat up and yawned. He stretched his long limbs and frowned as his room came into focus. Most of his injuries were already mostly healed much to Gaius's dismay. This would not be to explain, however since the storm was magical... The boy shivered as a look of self conscious clarity flashed in his eyes, "Gaius, why am I naked?"

"What do you last remember, Merlin?"

It wasn't helpful to answer a question with a question.

"Uhm, I was walking back from... Oh you don't know. There's a green spot in the woods. I think it's my fault. I purged my magic there a few weeks ago, yknow so I could think about something unpleasant and well...," Merlin shrugged his shoulders as he reached for a shirt. "Anyway, we were walking back in the snow. I admit, I was upset. I mean seriously Gaius, I could feel my own magic outside of my body. It was gross. My magic wasn't gross. The fact that it felt alive and disembodied was the gross part. It's hard to explain."

Gaius shook his head as Merlin got dressed while chattering at his normal breakneck speed.

"Anyway, everyone else started to run. I don't know why. That's when things started to get a bit fuzzy. I still don't feel right and I think it's getting worse. Gaius, why does your breath smell like valerian root? Are you feeling jittery?"

"Merlin, you got struck by a bolt of lightning from that storm. That's why I drank some valerian how can you smell that? I think it's natural for me feel a bit rattled especially if the boy I treasure like a son goes and spontaneously transforms into a cat in front of someone who's trying to help me treat your injuries. You put on quite a show last night."

The boy froze in the middle of pulling on his socks. His eyes closed. "Who?"

The question was quiet and laced with panic. Gaius sympathized knowing what this would mean to his ward, "Gwaine. You turned into a cat. You hissed quite a lot. You even tried to hide under the cabinet. You scratched him, so I say the bath he gave you was enough of a punishment for your behavior."

"Gwaine gave me a bath..."

"In cat form, yes. He did. However that is not the point. While injured you revealed your secret. You weren't aware of it?"

"No. I wasn't. Of course I wasn't. I didn't... Oh gods, Gaius. Did he say... I mean is he okay? About magic, I mean...me," Merlin was practically panting as he tried to control the panic attack.

"He'll keep your secret. He is your friend, Merlin."

Merlin's eyes were filled with dread. He had always wanted to tell Gwaine, but he had decided that telling him would be a bad thing. It wasn't time. He could get into trouble if he knew. There was so much wrong about Gwaine knowing that Merlin couldn't even begin to process that he knew without Merlin being in control of it. It was bad enough when Lancelot discovered him!

"So.. uh..." the young warlock's brain was overloading. He was already sucking his bottom lip and looking around the room nervously.

"You need to get back into bed. I'll bring you your breakfast. You were severely injured just last night and now you seem to be fine. Merlin, this is going to be extremely difficult to explain," lectured Gaius. "Your skin is almost back to normal. I can barely see the burns."

The boy shivered, his anxiety was reaching new heights. Gaius thought he was imagining that those familiar blue eyes were flickering with flashes of gold, but nothing obviously magical was happening. He didn't know what to make of it and right now it just didn't matter.

* * *

The druid leader Iseldir had met Arthur twice and survived the tale. It was decided that it was time for the druids to approach Camelot for the magical community was suffering thanks to the efforts of King Uther. Iseldir refused to speak to anyone, but Arthur and he waited patiently even though he was under watch. He had been offered a room that had once been the quarters of Camelot's Court Sorceress, Nimueh. He and one other druid accepted the offer, but it was far from ideal. Guards were placed inside and outside the room. They were far from welcome, but they were not under arrest, yet.

The druids had requested an audience with the young Pendragon and refused to discuss matters with anyone else. Aggravaine had tried to intimidate them into conversation, but the trickster had to admit defeat. Druids were stupidly stubborn.

Arthur wanted to see Merlin. From the moment he woke, he was desperate to see his friend. His pride refused to be obvious about this desire, but he wasn't fooling anyone – especially not George. George reminded him that there were druids in the castle and that Arthur had to decide whether or not to see them or arrest them. The manservant stand-in was normally politeness to a fault, but even Mister Perfect was showing signs of stress. He hadn't been rude, for sure, but the manner with which he spoke to Arthur was more like a governess to a petulant child.

The Royal Pain decided that he would break protocol in order to expedite things along. Technically he wasn't supposed to grant audience to a criminal. George had decided – on his own – to put the druids up for the night. The druids should have been placed in the dungeon or on the pyre, according to his father's laws. However, Arthur did not agree with punishing those who were peaceful. He'd talk to the druids and then he would have them leave.

Arthur recognized Iseldir immediately although his expression did not betray his familiarity with the druid. Iseldir had been the druid leader who led the camp where he had brought the boy Mordred. He was also the druid who relinquished the Cup of Life.

"I was under the impression there were more of you," said Arthur in greeting to the druid clan leader and his female companion. The woman was much younger than the druid leader, but they held hands. It was an intimate action, but there was no tenderness on either of their faces. Both looked at him apologetically. It filled the young warrior with a sense of foreboding and here he was facing them alone. Sure the guards were there and George – but George was not Merlin. Arthur felt naked without Merlin at his side.

The druid looked at George, who was standing behind Arthur's left shoulder, curiously. It was as if he to were looking for Merlin, the wise druid took a calming breath. He bowed his head slightly - in a gesture of respect and said, "Greetings Arthur Pendragon. I come in peace. As you might have already surmised, this visit is about the weather."

Arthur hadn't been in Nimueh's old room before, but he strode across the room and sat down in a chair at the table. It was near the window where he could still see the wicked weather that had harmed his friend. He gestured for the druids to sit with him.

"If only the weather was a neutral topic. As you can guess, it has most of Camelot in a panic. My manservant Merlin was injured yesterday. Tell me, is it your doing?" asked Arthur, already knowing the answer was no. The druids were a peaceful people, they would never lay a magical siege, but Arthur wanted to push for answers and his brain struggled for a way to wring them out. Unfortunately, the better questions and phrasing parts of his brain were concentrating on keeping a level head.

Iseldir shook his head sadly. He was a mere druid, but his hair was like a silver slightly curled halo. With his appearance he could be a king or a saint, there was something holy and worldly about him. Arthur's encounters with him had been brief, but the man was honest, direct, and fearless – and yet incredibly peaceful. However, seeing that the handsome features were grim only alarmed Arthur. Normally members of the magical community came to Camelot to threaten or menace and he was used to that. This man wasn't capable of it. In fact if Iseldir had been insulted or intimidated by the accusation that he had been responsible for the storm – it did not show.

His voice was soft but firm, "No, Arthur Pendragon. This storm is pure magic. No sorcerer could conjure – or hope to conjure something like this. Many clans came together and I was the one elected to impart this information. It brings me no happiness or satisfaction. This storm is of your father's doing."

Arthur swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as his mind flashed to the unicorn that he had killed and the painful lesson that he had learned. The young royal sighed and firmly commanded the guards to leave the room. They obeyed, but not without frowning and dragging their feet. Arthur pursed his lips together for a moment, his mind not on the druid, or his father, but the victim of the storm: Merlin.

"What can I do to stop it?"

Iseldir, in grim honesty, answered, "Nothing. There is nothing you or your father can do to reverse this storm. There is only one person and one person alone who could possibly do anything about it. You need him. His name is Emrys."

Emrys, great. _That_ name – again.


	14. Chapter 14

Maybe one day someone would put this tragedy to music! Arthur mentally slapped himself. His vanity had once again grown. It'd just been mere hours since his loyal ego trimming companion had been struck down by a magical monstrosity of his father's making and already he was imagining musicians fixated on immortalizing his problems.

Arthur smiled wryly, Merlin certainly enjoyed keeping him inline.

There would be some who claimed that magic was merely a tool, but after what the druid leader had said about it – magic would never be the same to Arthur. His father had always claimed that magic was evil and those who used it were evil. He claimed that magic was something that could not been seen easily and that anyone could possess it and it could turn the innocent into evil. How wrong he had been! How arrogant! How misguided! Someone once said that magic was like a sword and it was up to the wielder how it was used? HA! That was bull. Sure, maybe for a _sorcerer_ it might be like that. Sure, magic might be something that can be used for good or evil, but now Arthur knew the truth about magic and it made him angry.

Arthur stood at the window inside a room that used to belong the the former court sorcerer's chambers and watched the two druids leave Camelot. Their gray green cloaks danced in the wind as their forms retreated from the very citadel that would normally persecute them. How they knew they could walk in say those words and leave unmolested – was a mystery in itself or was it? They had spoken of prophecies. Magic. They spoke of things he had never wanted to know. It was more painful than hearing about his own birth and how his father had betrayed his mother by taking her future away by exchanging her life for an heir.

His father had been such a fool!

When Arthur turned he saw George, the pale imitation of his Merlin, trying to blend in with the décor of the room. They were surrounded by red and blue draperies, strange glass bottles, and dusty tomes. His father hadn't even commanded this room to be purged even though he had ransacked his kingdom of every magical being he could find. He left this room as some kind of shrine to his crime. A physical memory that he could visit. His priorities were no where near where a reasonable man's should have been. He'd killed healers and seers. He hadn't just focused on malevolent magic, he tried to strike down magic itself and now – now they were paying the price.

Perhaps one less drop of magical blood spilled would have prevented it, but once Uther set in motion the prejudice against those who had magic... he had set this in motion. "Normal" people took advantage of enchanters and killed them instead of paying. Magical people could not come for justice. Healers were sacrificed after saving lives. Seers condemned and burned after giving life saving prophecies. Magical beasts were ravaging the country sides – and he and his knights had put them down for the good and for the bad.

He wanted to be sick to rid himself of the turning feeling inside his guts, but he knew even if he did manage to vomit – it wouldn't help. He needed to cleanse himself. Camelot and it's rulers had enough of purges.

"You will _say _nothing. You will say_ nothing_ to _anyone_," commanded Arthur through his perfectly white teeth that were grinding together even as he spoke, "This is a secret."

Merlin wouldn't need to be told to be quiet. As much as his manservant could prattle on and on about absolutely anything under the moon and sun, Arthur hated to admit that Merlin knew when to keep his mouth shut. If he had decided to keep a secret, he kept it. If he was told to keep a secret, he kept it – unless it was only a matter of vanity.

Unsatisfied Arthur marched his way across the room, but just as he passed George – he had to catch his breath. For just a moment – one brief fleeting moment, he swore, the man had... rolled... his eyes...

* * *

"Are you trying to kill me with that infernal stench? Gaius, please, use the candles that I made! Tallow candles are hideous! Beeswax is so much better!" complained Merlin shouted from his room down to his mentor.

"How did you know I was using tallow candles?"

"Animal fat has a distinctive smell. I know they aren't pure tallow, but they still burn dirty. Don't use those sooty, disgusting candles. They pollute the room, the air, and my lungs!" yelled Merlin from above – his voice more annoyed than before.

"Merlin, go back to bed. If you don't behave yourself, I'll dose you so that you'll sleep for the next fortnight!"

"Is he always so sensitive?" asked Gwaine.

"Now that you mention it, no. He normally doesn't complain about what kind of candles that I use," muttered Gaius as he guttered the candles while Merlin cursed from his room about it being a crime to render animal fat for the purpose of candle making.

"How long do we have to keep him up there?"

Gaius shook his head, "I'm not sure how to explain his recovery. But," picked up several rolls of bandages and placed a few in Gwaine's hand, "Do me a favor, help me. We're going to go up there and you are going to help me wrap him up. We can make him look like he's being treated at least."

"Kitty cat man is not going to like this!" Gwaine started to chuckle as mischief flashed in his eyes.

Gaius frowned at him, "And YOU," he stabbed the knight in the chest with his index finger, "YOU could be less relieved, happy, and cheerful. At the very least be prepared to be appropriately concerned."

Gwaine giggled, "This magic secret keeping stuff is so sneaky. It's kind of fun."

Merlin thought he knew the meaning of the word demoralization. Working for, with, on Arthur for as long as he had – had always been a challenge to his own sense of pride. Even as a monster, he had his own sense of right and wrong. Even as a freak, he had some sense of decency. Sure he was different than everyone else, but his mother was "normal" and she had done her best to bring him up to be an honest and caring person. He tried. Sometimes he failed, but he tried to be Good. And yes, he had a belief that people, deep down, were all the same. That said, he thought he could trust Gaius and Gwaine not to throw his world into total chaos, but they invaded his room and... If, and maybe sooner than if, magic ever became legal – Merlin swore he was going to serve up a great big steaming heap of revenge on the two men who practically mummified him.

He understood the reasoning, but they had not been gentle. It would not had killed them to be a little kinder or be a little considerate of his modesty. He was never someone who was comfortable being naked in front of another person, although he had changed his clothing in front of others before. His modesty stemmed more from the shame from not being sculpted like a save the world kind of man by the quality of muscle. That said, they gave no thought to his shame as they stripped him down and wrapped him up in the long strips of bandages, wasting them – for he did not need them. They could have just done the visible parts and it wasn't fair that they had made the bandages beyond tight? It wasn't like they were trying to prevent him from escaping or something – were they? He didn't need them everywhere, but no Gaius went for "authenticity." Gwaine kept saying things like, "_don't throw a hissy fit_" mocking Merlin's transformation into a cat the night before. And as the mummification became more and more complete, his _friends_ – his _supporters_ went from serious to amused – and that wasn't very nice.

_Gwaine was a bad influence on Gaius_, Merlin decided as he glared at the handsome knight as the man patted him on the top of his head as he made cheeky comments on the difference between Merlin's hair and his fur.

After the binding, Merlin decided to call it "the binding," then they decided to feed him or rather Gwaine decided to hand feed him. He showed Merlin the scratches that he had gotten and moaned about the noxious treatment that Gaius had given him. Merlin doubted it was so heinous. Gwaine was grinning like proud sinner who was about to perform his next act of blasphemy in front of the gods themselves and Merlin glared at him with a mouth full of porridge. Any time he went to say anything in protest or defense, Gwaine shoveled an overly large portion of the gloop into his mouth and submitted him to another series of ridiculous claims. Merlin highly doubted he attacked Gwaine by leaping onto his face. He doubted that Gaius had to pull him off. He didn't think that he would have bitten his good friend. Yes he was clawed, but he was also told that the man had given him a bath – and even if he didn't remember it – doesn't mean that he had acted that _savagely. _

It wasn't long after the treatment that Arthur had come oozing into the physicians chambers, like a humble little slug. Maybe oozing was the wrong word, but Merlin wasn't in a generous mood. Gwaine had brought him down and had settled him onto a cot. He had gotten a chair with a highback and had pushed it against Merin's, he was peeling an apple and slipping sweet wedges into his captive's mouth chattering about having an opportunity to finally be able to fatten Merlin up. Maybe it wouldn't be so unpleasant, but Merlin was going to have to talk to Gaius about allowing Gwaine to feed anyone.

Apparently unless Merlin's cheeks were bursting like an over ambitious squirrel, Gwaine would be dissatisfied with his effort. The porridge was bad enough, but an overflowing mouth of apple was difficult. Chewing was nearly impossible – and Sir Handsome was still producing wedges. This was how Arthur found them. His blue eyes widened. Whether it was from relief or surprise, Merlin didn't know and really didn't care. He was preoccupied with other issues: not choking, chewing, breathing. Comeuppances.

Pendragon attention focused on him, the manservant. The knight, as if challenged, fed him the manservant – with continual heroic efforts. Merlin looked from man to man in increasing desperation. Arthur asked about Merlin's health and Gaius assured Arthur that Merlin was perfectly fine. Gaius wasn't even lying! He said that Merlin's injuries had been bad, but everything was fine now. He said he had no explanation for Merlin's good state of being. He made a comment about his energy being good and how he had been able to rest. Arthur was relieved but his voice heavy with emotion and confusion – however he accepted everything Gaius told him. Questioning Gaius about magic right now wasn't advisable and it was a magic bolt that had fried Arthur's manservant. There was nothing more Merlin wanted to do than to SAY SOMETHING, but Gwaine made that impossible. The knight was adept with a knife. He had nimbler fingers than Merlin had imagined. He was also more wicked in his heart than Merlin had ever wanted to give him credit for.

Gaius was wearing a familiar expression that he normally reserved for the more candid chats that occurred in these chambers. Merlin recognized it and he was hit with a second bolt. It wasn't from the storm. It was an intellectual one. As the realization struck him, apple sprayed from his mouth:

It was at this moment that Merlin realized that it was true. Arthur was his other side. He was the brighter side but the list went like this:

Merlin was smart.

Arthur was dim.

Merlin had a mother, and she was lovely.

Arthur had a father, and he was horrible.

Merlin met his father fleetingly, and it broke his heart.

Arthur met his mother fleetingly and it broke his heart.

And BOTH had traitorous uncles! Aggravaine was evil and Gaius just had an evil sense of humor.

Gaius was inwardly_ laughing._

Gwaine was doing this at _his _bidding.

All eyes in the room turned and focused on Merlin.

* * *

"_You will say nothing."_

The storm was Uther's fault and although he wasn't allowed to speak of it to anyone else, that did not mean that he wasn't allowed to do anything about it. George noiselessly glided through the castle in elegance. He wasn't tall. His frame wasn't exaggerated. His face wasn't romantically pale strained with late nights and bruised with the lack of sleep. He might don the garb of Merlin, but Merlin he was not – but he supported the brave man who could tame a Pendragon.

There were other servants who occupied the senior positions amongst the staff members, but there was the unspoken rule that everyone who worked in the castle had to obey the servant who worked under the master with the most power and influence. Most would assume that this would make Uther's manservant the master of all, but this was not true. He merely needed assistance in keeping the dangerous Pendragon – placated. No one wanted Uther stirred up. No one wanted Uther tired or cranky. And now that he was ill, his manservant merely needed support as his purpose and well as his job – faded into obscurity. The truth of the matter was that it was Merlin who commanded the most respect and had the most influence, though he probably did not know it. No one told him and most would assume that he would deny help even if it was offered.

Merlin worked harder than all of them put together. He also offered help to anyone he came across. He always offered to share his food. He always offered a smile, a pat on the back, and much encouragement. Merlin dealt with the most difficult Pendragon, for Arthur was physical and had been cruel. Since Merlin arrived that had changed and since Merlin arrived – Arthur had been more responsible and more humble. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Since Merlin had been injured due to something that was Uther's fault and it would be impossible to say what would happen to the kingdom if Merlin would not be able to tend to Arthur, it was everyone's responsibility to do everything that they could do to help the young manservant. Stables were immaculate. Boots polished. Dogs exercised. Floors were polished. Armor gleamed. Servants who did not attend Arthur added an Arthur related duty to their regular duties – and George had created a schedule to keep it going. Sure, they had all contributed to doing Merlin's catch up work in an over night emergency clean up, but now they all were prepared to function as an invisible servant. It wouldn't do to if Aggravaine convinced Arthur to formally replace Merlin. No one wanted that to happen. No one wanted to work for Arthur. He might be a different man now, but they were no Merlin. They did not know how to maintain the man. They did not know what it was about Merlin that made Arthur – Arthur.

George glided past a maid, but not before catching her eye and giving her a subtle signal. She lowered her head slightly, but he had not waited to watch for the return sign. His expert eyes took in the condition of the braziers, and the lack of maintenance of the sills. Some things were out of place sometimes and now it made sense to him. There was a secret warlock in Camelot and he wasn't an enemy. He was their friend and it was the duty of every servant in the kingdom to report it to George. George would then decide to either tell it to Merlin or to tell it to Leon. If it looked like a security issue, it would be told to Leon. If it looked like someone was just trying to move around, exist – magically – he would leave it unreported.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd seen signs of magic that he hadn't reported. He had been harboring guilt about his silence, but now he felt conviction. Now he had a reason to encourage others. He had seen signs of rat rubbings outside windows and nothing other than a shape changer would do that. Rats didn't turn around at windows. Rats came into windows. They didn't spy. If it were Morganna, Morganna wasn't subtle. She never was. It wasn't her style. If Morganna were spying on Camelot, she had an actual spy in Camelot. She would have a human in Camelot and it would be someone bold. Someone so incredibly visible.

George had an incredible amount of pride in his house keeping. He knew the difference between a rat rubbing and a whisk of a tail feather. He knew when smudges were from lady fingers or man fingers. He had a good idea when it was a servant who nicked kindling and when it was that a visiting noble had gotten cold and wastefully dumped kindling wastefully on the hearth. A servant would just take a handful. A noble would dump the whole bucket. Neither was something he would do anything about, but the noble's stupidity was something that he would chuckle about.

Merlin frequently gathered kindling for the castle. He also gave it out. He also nicked it. No one would ever call him on it.

One by one, he signaled other servants to visit him in his chambers later. Sure, he wasn't allowed to talk about what the druid had spoken about – however there was something that Arthur did not know about the staff of Camelot. All the servants shared information about their masters in case they had to serve due to illness or emergency. They had their own secret society. Nobles could never imagine the pains that were taken to ensure that comfort and peace of mind would always be available. Unless it were a matter of security – a secret would be kept. That was a given. However keeping secrets only for the matter of vanity? The Pendragon had a better chance of winning a verbal match with Merlin which basically meant, he hadn't a chance in hell of preserving that particular. Vanity was an illusion afforded by the wealthy that really did not exist, it was up to the staff to make them think that it had been procured.

Later while talking to the servants who had crammed into his little house, George explained to the other servants who were able to make the emergency meeting. He had only an hour to impart the information he had had and had been barely able to process.

_Emrys was the man – no the warlock that Camelot needed. He was the one that would save everyone. He was the one who would suffer the storm the most. He was the ..._

It was at that moment, George _knew._

* * *

Arthur had spent a few hours at Merlin's side. He was intoxicated with happiness, beaming at his manservant. Merlin was alert and talkative. He was angry at his bandages. He insisted that he was fine and not in pain. He teased Arthur about overreacting and being a pain in the ass.

Gwaine had finally left announcing the need for barmaids and mead. He winked at Merlin, clapped Gaius gently on the shoulder, and swaggered – as only Gwaine can swagger – out of the room.


	15. Chapter 15

George had the sense not to blurt out his suspicions, but he saw pieces of the puzzle fall together for the other members of the society. Not every servant was welcome to join or involved, only the most trust worthy and confidential members of the serving staff were involved. Most of the members had family members who had served – it was really important not to let anyone in who could be bribed, swayed, or anyone who might blab about their practices. In many ways what they did would be more damning than magic. No Lord or Lady would want their private secrets let out and the posher the family – the dirtier the laundry.

Brock, the manservant to the Chancellor, financial Secretary, came late to the meeting. He was a tall young man who seemed to be made of patience unless he was under to much stress, who was a very important member of the society. "Sorry I'm late. My man's being a worry wart. Lots of talk and panic about some warlock named Emrys apparently at some meeting about the storm the other day. That said, now Aggravaine's been poking around on some sort of witch hunt. Practically accused him of hiding a magic user in Camelot! It took four pints to get my man to calm down after dinner with that oily piece of shite. I wish he would crawl back under the rock he came out of – how dare he..."

"Interesting," muttered one of the maids causing Brock to pause his tirade. Her name was Clothilde and she was proud of her braids, "Emrys is what we've been talking about."

"And?" curiously yet politely prompted Brock.

George cleared his throat, "Emrys is our salvation. Not just us, all of Camelot. In fact, all of Albion. He is an essential element to uniting the lands and bringing peace. Apparently he is here in Camelot. He's here in our castle, working behind the scenes. Protecting Arthur, standing in the shadows at his side. Hidden in plain sight. He and our Arthur are part of some prophecy with a grand destiny, however – his identity must remain secret. Morganna and Aggravaine are hunting for him."

Brock stared at George, "How do you know this?"

"The druids came and told Arthur this much and a bit about the storm. Apparently the storm is not a magical attack – it's actually magic attacking. It's all Uther's fault," explained George hastily. He'd already explained it once tonight.

"How upset was Arthur?" asked Brock, his concern was real.

George shrugged, "He's mortified, of course, because of his father's responsibility in ..."

"Not about that part, about Emrys."

"Oh that," smiled George wanly, "you know, I don't think he knows who Emrys is yet."

There was much muttering and rolling of eyes. No one said it but they were all thinking the same thing. In fact, the very words of the prophecy sort of gave it away. One only need to look at the man serving at Arthur's side to find Emrys and that was Merlin. Only Brock actually began to chuckle a little.

"What can we do to help?" the maid Clothilde asked.

George scratched his head, "I think in order to support Emrys – we need to step up our game. We've always managed around comfort and our predictions of what will be needed. However we're entering a time where either destiny will be fulfilled or all will come tumbling down. Destiny and fate are not the same, after all. Morganna and her kind will no doubt try to bring Camelot down. She will attack the kingdom, Arthur, and she's looking for... Emerys. We need to be ready for invasion, evacuation, and the ever so popular – seige. The people we support are the ones who need to witness the birth of Albion. We have to make sure that more people survive than die."

Brock interrupted, "Surely, this is a knights duty." He raked a delicate hand through his straw colored hair and sighed. Exhaustion was etched under his eyes, the normally well put together servant was in need of decent sleep. Aggravaine was harassing his master quite a lot lately.

Clothilde shook her head, "There's not enough of them. Morganna doesn't fight fairly. This is magic we're talking about. And.. Emrys, Emrys can't come out and fight face to face. He'll have to be sneaky which puts him at a disadvantage. Magic isn't exactly legal, you know."

"He should just eliminate her and then present his case if he's so great," an aging servant said as he passed out rolls with bits of rosemary and cheese baked into them. Cheese was expensive but used like this, it could be spread out and still be a treat. Grateful hands accepted theirshare and while exhausted men and women thanked the baker for his hard work.

"No," Clothilde protested, "No! Absolutely not. How dare you suggest that? He's not even a knight. He's just a man. He's protecting the very kingdom that condemns him. You ask for to much and besides that, that's not how the prophecy says it works."

"I agree with Clothilde," said George, boldly.

"What about Merlin?" asked Mary a scullery maid with a wicked sense of humor and an eye for trouble.

"What do you mean?" snapped Clothilde before George could respond.

"Does anyone know how he is? He was in such a bad state. I saw him when Arthur brought him in," Mary's eyes were misty with emotion. She had a soft spot for Arthur's manservant. George had thought they had all figured out the Merlin Emrys connection, but now he wasn't sure.

"He's fine," George reassured her, "I saw Gwaine in the hallway and he wasn't falling to pieces. If Gwaine is fine – then Merlin will be fine. There's no way that man would have left the physician's chambers if Merlin was dying."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Shall we commence with the normal part of the meeting then?" interrupted the usually patient Brock, who obviously needed sleep. George smiled at his friend fondly.

"Yes, I think that would be appropriate," said George as he flipped open a small black book. "Who wants to start the commentary?"

"I will," offered Brock smiling and nodded to his friend as a warning to be ready to write, "Brock manservant to the money counting git notes that nervous habits are increasing lately as pressure to find mysterious warlock is applied. Formally unknown, aunt claimed to be an enchantress who made interpreted dreams and made luck charms. Unsure validity of claim of magic, however she was killed during purge."

"My turn," Clothilde said and then cleared her throat, "Clothilde notes that pantry supplies are low even though we had a restock just last week. Suspect that someone's been pinching food, but not out of need. This is to much food for it to be for a family."

One by one, the servants stood and made their reports. Missing supplies. Missing apprentices. Witnessing bribes. Nervous nobles.

The storm raged on.

* * *

"Are you alright?" asked Arthur for the hundredth time. His smiles had long fled as his feeling of relief had finally settled down. No longer fueled by highly powered emotions, Arthur had taken up badgering Merlin who had taken up a spontaneous vow of silence since praying the room with apple. It just wasn't fair, he had been so worried and now Merlin was angry about something. Again. "Can I get you something?"

"..."

"Are you in pain?"

Merlin sighed and then finally asked, "What's wrong, Arthur? Something is bothering you."

It always came down to this. His infernal ability to see – when Arthur needed to be seen. Arthur started to talk, but he only talked about his father's connection to the storm. How it was just one more thing that his father could be blamed for. He talked about his meeting with the druids, in Nimueh's old room. Merlin hung onto every word. He only commented with,"Wish I could have met the druids," and "who have you told?" and "I wouldn't tell your uncle, he's got a thing for Emrys," and "honestly, Arthur, you would think that Camelot attracted magical nonsense."

_Maybe that was it, _Arthur thought to himself as he allowed a weak smile to flutter over his lips. He struggled for a moment. He had been able to feel happier earlier, but sitting beside Merlin drinking in his presence – getting apple spit on him. Even being annoyingly measured by those bottomless blue eyes that never seemed to miss even the slightest attempt at a lie. He knew he better confess of his own volition, so he admitted, "that's not all that's on my mind."

Merlin nodded, prompting his friend to continue as he drained a cup of the weak beer sweetened with honey that Gaius had left for him to drink. The water supply had been tainted recently again and it wasn't safe to drink water. Merlin didn't mind the drink, but he thought he'd be better off with warm honeyed milk – but what did he know? _It was only his body. It was only his stomach. He was only the person who had to drink it. He was the one who had to keep it down. _

"I thought you might not live through that," confessed Arthur shamefully. He laid out his feelings raw, not completely – but he tried. "Merlin, that was awful.."

The long thin frame wrapped in bandages stretched as much as it was able. The toes that were poking through the bottom end of the sheet had flexed outwardly and Arthur watched them in fascination. They were long, slim, but they were healthy looking. The nails were trimmed nicely. Arthur hadn't realized that a peasant's toes would be so clean and perfectly formed. The pale skin was pink and there was a ghostly freckled that seemed to wink in and out of sight as the toes fanned out for a moment and then slightly curled before they once again relaxed into their natural state.

Merlin was tired and had hidden a yawn, but his body betrayed him.

Arthur wanted to leave now, but he was held in place by Merlin's stare. There was nothing threatening about being under the direct scrutiny of this servant. Violence wasn't natural to the boy, but it hurt sometimes to be seen as much as it hurt not to be seen. If anything happened to Merlin – Arthur would be invisible for the rest of his life.

Merlin didn't tease him. Usually it was one of those opportunities for Merlin to prattle on about feelings and say everything that Arthur wasn't admitting – except it wasn't because Merlin could read minds. He was just voicing his own hopes. All he wanted to hear from Arthur was that: _Merlin mattered._ No, instead what the manservant did was shake his head sadly. His eyes were full of sympathy, "I don't know what happened, but I am fine now. You have to believe in me, Arthur. Everything is going to be alright. We will get through this, together. I'm not going to leave you. I'll serve you until the day I die, you have my solemn..."

"_MERLIN!" _the mental plea froze the boy as the ancient dragon's voice commanded his attention.

"SIRE!" Leon burst into the room, still worthy of being a sitter for a painter. The curls, the desperation, and the obvious suffering. Yes, painters loved these types of subjects to paint. Add a layer of sweat, a few droplets of blood, and some smoke stains – and there is one more perfect example of what the age romanticized as romantic and manly. In all it's sooty and metal encased – melodramatic …

"_Merlin... Merlin... Merlin!"_

"The storm, it is getting bigger and the snow is starting to accumulate now. It is beginning to become a threat. People are panicking. Our men who aren't in the citadel are directing those in harms way to some natural caves, but some of them take days to walk to – the storm stands between them and shelter. One of our men risked riding through it to make a report," Leon looked stressed.

"_Merlin... Merlin... Merlin!" _Kilgharrah was certainly going to have to get a lecture about his communication skills. Not every chat had to be face to face if he knew he could be heard – they should just get things out and the open and speak his mind. This constant calling Merlin's name was childish. Merlin was not a _"governess"_ at the hearth, stirring a pot with a royal dragonet tugging at the cuffs of his trousers - calling out his name: _"Merlin... Merlin... Merlin!"_

"If the report can't wait for the round table then you need to speak clearly, Sir Leon," prodded Arthur.

"There is a small band of travelers heading this way. They look foreign, Sire. They aren't Romans. They're.. different."

"_Merlin... Merlin... Merlin!" _Kilgharrah's mental pleading did not sound panicked. Instead it reminded him of the time they had a child princess visiting the kingdom. She had taken a liking to Merlin and had gone to him with every request. Her small noble voice had been laced with a feeling something like, _Merlin I want a sweet! I need you to pay attention to me right now because I'm going to catch on fire. Hold my hand and walk with me. I would like flowers now. My needs are speaking. You need to pay attention now. Just look at me. _Admittedly Merlin had liked the child. She was starved for affection. She drank in his attention like a plant that suddenly had enough water and light. It was an almost hysterical response she latched onto him. Arthur allowed him to tend to the girl for a few hours a day at her request, despite her many attendants, teachers, and body guards. Like Arthur, the affection had started with a rebuke. The pampered princess had gone missing. She liked to escape a little. She didn't leave the castle, but she left those who would hover over her with watchful eyes and judgmental mouths. She had pulled a cat's tail so Merlin had gently tugged at one of her twin tails and lectured her that she was not the only creature who trod the earth who possessed feelings. She kicked him. He had knelt before her and told her that he forgave her, but added that she was the noble. Her manners needed to be better than his – one day she would be the law of her kingdom. One day she would be the one to pull hair, lecture, and kneel – but not now. Now, she was a child and it was time for sweets and with that he swept the naughty girl into his arms and smuggled her into the kitchens where she was treated to bread, honey, and milk.

Merlin sighed at the memory, Dragons were like royals, they insisted. Happy anticipation was not an emotion Merlin associated with his dragon. The only other time he felt this from Kilgharrah was when Aithusa was involved.

There were many children in Ealdor and most were well behaved. When hunger came, everyone suffered.

"Arughhhhh!" yelled Merlin in pure frustration but it was enough to alarm the entire room. As soon as the pained sound left Merlin's lips, Gaius swooped down on him like a bird of prey. Arthur jumped to his feet, in full alarm. Leon looked shamed as if he had struck the boy himself.

"W-We better be..." Arthur stammered.

"Yes, you better," agreed Gaius looking at Arthur and then the door.

_Emryssss... Emryssss...Emrysss..." _ Aithusa's voice joined Kilgharra's.

After the men left, Merlin begrudgingly told Gaius what was wrong. He still resented the bandages, porridge, and apple treatment that he knew this treacherous man was responsible for. As much as he craved hugs and approval from this man, he also knew that there was a side to Gaius that truly was wicked – and no one would ever be able to exercise that sense of humor. Not that Merlin normally minded it, for he also tended to mine humor from the same vein.

"Why are the dragon's calling for you?"

"I don't know," answered Merlin truthfully as he struggled against his wrappings to sit up but he couldn't. Breathlessly he collapsed against the cot in a fit of vengeful oaths.

"Oath Breaker," teased Gaius and Merlin smiled sheepishly through his annoyance before answering, "Well it would be justice for both you and Gwaine to wrapped for a week. This is not fun, Gaius. You're going to have to release me."

"No, I don't think so," replied the elderly man fondly.

_If looks could kill._

"Please?" begged Merlin. "Please Gaius, Kilgharrah can't attack Camelot, but I've made no such restrictions on the baby. If desperate enough Kilgharrah will do something where he cannot be ignored by anyone. I can't afford for that to happen and if he challenges me to deal with him directly just so that we can have a conversation – I'll never hear the end about it. He's worse than you are about "duty" and "obligation" of course he's not talking about my job. He's talking about my other job, my main role. My destiny. I cannot ignore my dragon, Gaius. I cannot.!"

"_I'm_ not releasing you, Merlin."

"Oh!"

* * *

George flowed from one end of the citadel to the other. He plucked up a tray that held Arthur's food and a jug of heavily spiced wine. It was mildly alcoholic, but it was pleasant. It would have less of an impact than one of Gaius's drafts, but the idea was to have Arthur able to make decisions. George slapped a wedge of cheese onto the tray, remembering how he had once seen Merlin had thrown food together. It was as if food – was the last thing on Merlin's mind.

Some speculated that Merlin, behind closed doors would shove food at Arthur and say things like, "This is all your getting, greedy guts. You've got to earn the rest. Your performance on the training field was pitiful yesterday you let your guard down." It was a joke really. No one really believed it, but it was fun to fantasize about for those who served. If anyone could do that sort of thing, it would be Merlin. If anyone knew him, they knew even if he could do something like that – he wouldn't. If Merlin had all the power in the world, it would be wasted. He simply had no ambition of his own.

George smiled at the idea anyway. Just once he would like to see Merlin "school" Arthur. He wasn't sure how he did it. He suspected that Merlin was Emrys, but Merlin would never use magic on someone to change who they were. Merlin would never influence another person for his own gain. It didn't matter in the long run. It was just a dream. George inwardly smiled at his own childishness.

_Still, it would be nice._


	16. Chapter 16

The party of foreigners that had been traveling towards Camelot had "disappeared" and that had made Arthur extremely nervous. He spent several days going to meetings with advisers, his uncle, and of course with his father. However, the meetings with his father were the kind where he listened to the man slip further into his past and the only words from his mouth were unsolicited confessions of various sins. Gaius and Uther's two dedicated manservants, a father and his son, had decided that only they should tend to the failing king and when asserted that this should be so, Arthur realized that these men knew everything already. He didn't want to be surprised by the revelation, but he was. It was Gaius, especially, that hurt him. He realized that the elderly man could have he would have kept Uther's secrets even from Arthur. It was to late, of course. Arthur had already heard the most shameful confessions. The only thing that salvaged his respect for the physician was that Gaius never attempted to say that the words were the product of delusion or confusion – he simply said, "there are just some things no one needs to know."

Gaius's role in Uther's care was minimal. He prescribed and administered medicines to keep the king calm, to help him sleep, and to ease his usual aches and pains that accumulated from a difficult life. However other than that, Gaius continued with his usual routine. Uther, at one time, had commanded his respect. Time had changed that a bit. Uther still commanded Gaius's loyalty, but no longer held his respect – that had fled sometime after Merlin had arrived at the castle. Perhaps it was due to the Witchfinder. Perhaps it was when Uther had commanded that Merlin drink from the poisoned chalice or when he crushed the flower that would have saved the boy's life? Perhaps it was when Uther tried to hire a scarred man who pushed Gaius out of a job so that he could try to get his revenge by killing the king? Perhaps it was just one morning when dawn broke and Merlin had come down stairs, smiled at Gaius, and went to work – Arthur didn't know. Arthur wasn't sure. However Gaius's lecture stayed with him. Gaius had been used and he felt it. Gaius was an extraordinary man to still be loyal and yet harbor resentment. Arthur could not help but feel humbled by his professionalism.

Gaius had assured him that Merlin was fine and would return to work soon, but Arthur could not understand how. He had no memory of what Merlin looked like, but he remembered the smell. He remembered something had been terribly wrong. He also knew that even though his manservant was the luckiest person alive, he was still just flesh and blood. He couldn't remember what it was that Merlin wanted, but he knew Merlin had asked him for something.

Arthur asked George if there was perhaps something he should do for Merlin to help him return to work faster, "not that I don't appreciate your efforts, but I am sort of used to him and I prefer the way he does things. You understand, don't you?" George had said that he understood. "perfectly." Of course he understood perfectly, George did everything perfectly. He probably even pissed perfectly. If there was a way to die, neatly and without inconvenience, George would accomplish _that _as well. Perfect George was helpful, of course, when asked about Merlin. He suggested new clothes to replace what was damaged when the boy was injured.

"In fact," droned George as he flowed around the room adjusting things or was he dusting things, Arthur couldn't tell – he moved so fluidly, "You might show Merlin some appreciation for his hard work and length of time in service. Most employers do, so he won't take it as pity, if you make such a gesture. It is traditional. Merlin might appreciate a jacket for winter as well as one for summer. A few tunics, he only has three. His blue one has faded to grey – I believe he tried to dye it and it turned a weird purplish color. His red one faded to orange and then pink.. A few more neckerchiefs, as they do come in handy. His trousers, both brown I believe, were also in need of replacing. I haven't seen him wear anything other than those two and losing one would mean he has no spare."

The young royal stared at his temporary manservant, he knew George was good – but he hadn't realized that he paid attention to Merlin as well as Arthur. It gave him goosebumps. It was as if this servant had been interfering or watching them. Perhaps he knew something about Emrys? Arthur bit his lip, maybe George was really the secret warlock himself? Arthur hoped not. George was cold towards him. He did not seem invested in his well being, in fact, George only seemed to care about household duties.

"Arrange it," commanded Arthur and he dug into the bag at his belt and dug out a coin and placed it into George's hand. George however did not retract his hand. He kept it stretched out with his palm open. Arthur's hand went back and dug out two more coins. The temporary manservant kept his palm out and he coughed a little. Angry, Arthur spewed, "Isn't it enough?"

"Only if you want him to sew the articles of clothing himself, Sire, and not to have a coat," replied George.

Frustrated Arthur fished out a handful of coins and thrust them into George's hand, his voice loud and snapping, "That's all. Okay? That's all. Merlin better have enough tunics, trousers and jackets now. If he doesn't, you are going into the stocks and you'll pay for the rest!"

There was a glint in George's eye, he bent deeply at the waist, "this should cover everything nicely, Sire."

"Make sure you do. While you're out. Go down and tell Geoffrey I want every book he has on prophecies and magical creatures. Curses. That sort of thing. Also run by Gaius's ask him if he has any ideas how I could go about getting a magic book. Don't be surprised, he used to practice in the days before the purge. Get going and I want chicken for dinner. Herb bread. And wine!" barked Arthur.

_Oh the kitchen staff was going to love this request._

George flowed gracefully out of the room with handful of coins tightly held in his hand. He was sure Arthur had slipped and put a gold coin or two in there. That would be very helpful for his plans.

What Arthur didn't know was that the servant society of Camelot had already settled the matter about Merlin's lack of clothing. Several of the maids had moaned about how the boy hadn't one decent item left since he entered Arthur's employment. Arthur was forever throwing things at Merlin and his clothes were threadbare from his attempts to get them clean. Arthur also liked making the boy work in the stables and gave him demeaning, disgusting jobs. Merlin, without his mother, only attempted keeping clean. Only recently did the other members of the household realize that the boy spent most of his money on sending items to his mother. The apothecary man had let it slip that items made by Merlin were the boy's way of making money to bring the woman to Camelot. Suddenly every maid and seamstress was recommending his soaps and lotions to the noble ladies hoping that Merlin would be able to afford to move his mother soon.

Seamstresses from the lower town made Merlin three summer trousers and three lined winter trousers. It was the same for the tunics. The jackets they had made at the tanners. Now with George getting the money from Arthur they could replace their coins – and George had more than a little left over for other niceties. Merlin might be returning to work soon. George normally worked as a scribe doing part time work helping Geoffrey, but now – well he had other plans. He wasn't sure the how, but he knew the what.

* * *

It was starting to get cold. It wasn't clear if it was a natural cold or because the magic outside. It didn't matter, the citadel wasn't well stocked with firewood and no one was willing to venture out since Merlin got struck down. Everyone was trying to ration what little fuel they had. Certainly there were other things they could burn, but it was to damp to dry horse dung. There wasn't enough hay for the stables. There wasn't enough grain to make it through winter for the farmers in the outer regions couldn't make their donations. At first, the storm didn't seem to be like it was more than a light show with a few flakes for decoration. Now it was a threat. Only the really stupid or brave would even think of trying to leave the castle now – it was so depressing!

Aggravaine paced in his chambers. It was painful not to be able to contact the Lady Morganna. To not to be able to receive her instruction was like being cut off from sustenance. She motivated him to be better than himself. She challenged him. How was he supposed to get his Divine Inspiration if his Goddess was beyond his grasp?! His knees buckled and he allowed the pull of the earth to drag him down. The impact of his flesh and bone into the unforgiving stone was painful – in a good way. He felt – grounded in his agony. He could once again – think.

Oh if only he could find that warlock, Emrys. Finding Emrys would be dangerous, the warlock would have to still believe he was Arthur's loving uncle. And if he was still alive, he was probably still undiscovered. He'd already interviewed all the nobles and none claimed to have any connection. The only person who made sense was that stubborn physician, but Gaius wasn't talking. The only person that got him to talk had turned on Morganna! Was the knowledge itself an enchantment that guaranteed loyalty? No, it can't be. Morganna, that gorgeously gloriously smart girl, would have warned him of it – if it were possible.

At least they knew what he looked like. She had gotten a good look at the warlock when he attacked her viciously. The old man had freed Merlin from her control, no doubt at Gaius's request. It made sense that he would need Merlin to be beside Arthur. The boy was stupid, but loyal. He could see things and go home to the old physician and run his mouth and then the old men could take over and run the show. Merlin was only good for tattle telling and attempted murder. He had tried to poison the beautiful Morganna after all. One day, Aggravaine would kill the boy himself. He vowed it. He desired that as much as he desired revenge against the Pendragon's.

If Morganna had been enough for Uther as an heir, Ygraine would still be alive. However, he had committed adultery. He had lied. He deceived. He desired a male heir. He murdered. He needed his precious male heir eliminated and Morganna needed placing on the throne. It was she who was legitimate. She wasn't created unnaturally with magic. She merely had magic. She would be able to unite those who had magic with those who hadn't any magic. She would be able to do so much good. She was a sensitive and bright child with a passionate heart. Aggravaine did not blame her for being angry – he was angry as well. He respected Morganna for her strength and for her conviction. She deserved his loyalty and more.

If only he could talk to Morganna. She might be able to help him. Without her, he didn't see how he would be able to try force Emrys out of hiding and still be able to keep his motives – secret. While Uther's laws were still active, Arthur would have no choice but to enforce the law no matter how good the warlock's intentions were – it was part of his oath as heir. He had to enforce his father's laws and until he was actually king – no matter what.

Still on his kees, the cold spreading up through his legs – numbing his thighs, Aggravaine made himself a promise. If he couldn't find Emrys on his own, he would have to find a way around the storm. The only way to start to do that was to tell the truth to Arthur and point out that the castle would fall to starvation and the cold if they couldn't leave for supplies before the real winter settled in. He had to admit that just maybe in the struggle to find a way to deal with the magical menace – Aggravaine might find a way to kill two birds with one stone.

* * *

Merlin was sick of Gaius being stubborn. No didn't mean that he couldn't leave? Right? It only meant that he didn't have permission, it wasn't sanctioned, and he wasn't going to get any help – right? Kilgharrah and Aithusa were still pleading with him. Day and night, they chanted his name. They didn't do it constantly, but they did it enough so that he couldn't rest or concentrate on anything but them. His mind constantly wandered to the field where he met Kilgharrah. He couldn't help but imagine how big Aithusa had gotten. It hadn't escaped his notice that Aithusa did not call him Merlin. He tried to answer them back, but they didn't hear him. Well if they did hear him, they didn't change saying his name over and over and over again. Wrapped in bandages wearing his only trousers and his nightshirt, he lay in bed with a blistering headache.

_Merlin_... Kilgharrah said in tones that suggested he had something juicy to offer his Dragon Lord, as if that was really going to lure Merlin out of the castle. He would go if he could. Technically he could. He just wasn't keen on angering Gaius. However, he could practically hear Aithusa whimpering. He was just a baby... it hurt.

He was losing money like this. He couldn't make his products for the apothecary, but he also couldn't pick herbs as well. It was snowing. They only had a limited amount of supplies for the winter. This wasn't a good thing. The dragons might have the answer, but he had to get to them to find out what they had to say. Gaius was having none of it. It was rare not to have to worry about Arthur going hunting or doing something stupid. Right now nothing could come in and nothing could get out – well except for the desperate or the lucky and Merlin's desperation was growing by the minute!

Sure, he understood that he had gotten hit by lightning, but Nimueh herself had hit him in the chest with a bolt once and that hadn't taken him out. He'd experienced it once before. Sure, not one the same scale, but he was still alive. That had to count for something.

If he could go out there, he might be able to do something. If he could try some magic without being seen, he might be able to stop the storm and return things back to normal. He would then have to go back to babysitting Arthur, but he had enough rest now. He had not skipped one meal in days. He had not broken a sweat either. He had no idea if Arthur was sleeping. This was a perfect time to talk to him. Things were calm-ish. There were no visitors. He might be able to slip in a comment about Gwen. He might even of been able to smuggle himself out to get word to his mother to get ready to move, but once again the reality of it was – Gaius was being uncooperative, unrelenting, and unyielding in his decision to let Merlin even attempt to go out.

Sooner or later, Merlin had to talk to Arthur about Gwen. He had to get the two of them talking or he would never get them back together. It was obvious that Arthur missed her, but the more time went by the more stubborn the prat would bound to be! He might even get used to being miserable and then he might even develop the Uther tendency to rule without his heart. That would be a big problem. Arthur needed to use his heart or he would be a disaster.

By a stroke of luck, Gaius had to help with a delivery of a baby. Some poor woman in the lower town was having her first child and she was abnormally large in the belly. It had been a difficult pregnancy and Gaius had been summoned to her bedside a few times to make sure that she and the baby were doing well. Merlin knew the woman and he liked her. She and her husband baked bread. It was much better than the bread that the palace cooks made, but he would never say within ear shot of anyone. It just tasted better and he liked to buy a loaf of it for dinner, sometimes, to share with Gaius.

Not without a bit of guilt, as soon as Gaius left Merlin made his decision to sneak out. He propped himself up on his elbows, cracking the wrappings. Merlin cursed the physician and the knight for being so complete about his wrappings. Not only had they bound him tightly but they had glued the bandages on with honey. It was hard now that it had crystallized and made him properly unable to do anything for himself. Embarrassment wasn't enough to kill him, but it felt like it sometimes. After a bit of time and some maneuvering, Merlin finally got to his feet.

He stood in the narrow beam of light from the half opened door to his room and pulled at the chord that held up his trousers. His nightshirt would not be so easy, but luckily his control on his magic was much more precise than it had ever been before. Now it was time for the unpleasant part.

"_laete þæt windas_," intonated Merlin with the customary flash of Gold. The wrappings shattered their crystalline hardener and slowly began to remove themselves from Merlin's body. Usually Gaius would soak them off, but Merlin hadn't the time or the luxury – and with the wrapping went what little body hair he had as well as dead skin. Ashen and white, surrounded by a cloud of airborne honey crystals that shone faintly in the light – Merlin took a shuddering breath to stabilize himself. He was finally free. His eyes were full of tears, but it was worth it. He'd be able to silence the dragon's pleas and it would be nice to be able to tend to his bodily needs without assistance, Gaius did afford him as much dignity as he could. However...

"I saw Gaius on the stairs outside, he said it was alright to bring you these," said George professionally with wide eyes at the top of the ladder with the door wide open, in his arms was a large parcel wrapped in crude cloth.. Merlin was still standing naked in a cloud of honey with bandages at his feet. He was a sight. No sign of being harmed recently other than the discarded bandages, blinking wildly at the intruder.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks," said Merlin stunned.

As if he just walked in on Arthur getting out of the bath, George stepped into the warlock's room without fear and placed the parcel on the end of the bed. He put his hands behind his back and looked respectfully away, "We had your clothes and jacket replaced. We also had a few extras made. Arthur paid for the services."

We had... We also had... Arthur paid... That did not go unnoticed, however Merlin didn't say anything. He did pull at the string holding the package together and pick up a blue tunic and put that on as quickly as possible, followed by winter trousers. George handed him a red neckerchief.

"T-t-thanks," muttered Merlin not quite knowing what to do or what to say. His thoughts about meeting the dragons had been temporarily arrested.

"You'll find there are two sets of seasonal clothing," George said while indicating item from item now that Merlin had messed up the presentation in an attempt to preserve lost modesty, "One for winter weather, one for summer and we commissioned two sets of jackets. Only the winter jacket is finished. We had that one made first due to the snow that is falling now. Your former jacket was ruined. We had the new ones done in the same style since it suits you and there was no way to ask if you had any desire to change. Is there anything else you might need?" asked George, seriously, as if he were waiting on Arthur. He used the same gentle but firm tones that he always used, but normally servants weren't formal with servants and Merlin felt like he just got a tour of a gift.

"You didn't have to," said Merlin nervously as if George were trying to trick him. Gold dust still hung in the air around him. He smelled like honey. Bits of it clung to his hair and his new clothing.

George looked at the mess, "I'll clean that up while you're gone."

"You don't have to," said Merlin holding up his hands, "Look I'm not going to do anything to you. You don't have to be scared. I won't enchant you or attack you. Just please don't tell anyone and don't think any differently of me. I'm still the same person. I'm not evil, I was born this way. I..."

The other servant started to laugh and that stopped Merlin's panic attack dead before it had gone any further. It was the first time in years that George had actually laughed. Granted it was more of a shuddering wheeze sound than a proper belly laugh, but for the perfect servant – it counted as out right merriment! He smiled a bit, the outward part of his mouth slightly turned up at a strange angle. He held Merlin's gaze for a moment before he said as softly as he could, "Please trust me, Merlin. I don't mean you any harm."


	17. Chapter 17

The warlock considered his luck when it came to people who had names who began with the letter "G." Gaius. Gwaine. George. He would have to pay attention in the future to anyone with a "G" name and keep his guard up. Not that they were bad people or that they had done anything terrible other than support him, but he was tired of being caught off guard. He loved being loved, but he didn't want to be so protected that he couldn't do his job. He didn't confine Arthur to his room trying to keep him alive – although it would simplify matters.

Gaius, was family. A guide. An anchor. He also taught Merlin how to support himself. He helped Merlin keep focused on his purpose. He kept him from losing heart. He was there for him when all seemed lost. He helped him figure out when he needed to use magic and when he needed to trust his destiny. He also taught him that sometimes he just needed to know when to seek help. Swallowing his pride and going to the great dragon after they had the falling out was difficult, but he did it. He wouldn't have if it wasn't for Gaius. There was so much Merlin wouldn't have done, if it wasn't for Gaius. Merlin owed the man so much. Gaius was everything to him and yet, he was also the one that Merlin lied to the most – in the beginning. It was a reflex. Magic wasn't allowed, ever. Any time he did magic, he had to lie about it. Even if he did the right thing, he automatically lied. Gaius had a hard time complimenting him or even telling him that he was proud of him, because Merlin would deny having anything to do with the magical solution. It had been so difficult for both of them for the longest time. Gaius, he wasn't Merlin's father, but he loved him very much. He could be over protective. All in all, Merlin was grateful to have him.

Gwaine was his best friend and in a way, his champion. If Merlin needed a defender, it was Gwaine who defended him. When the two crystal wearing imposters came to try to kill Arthur in the melee, it was Gwaine who had defended Merlin. They had been throwing knives at Merlin. Gwaine stepped in and history was made. From that moment on, Gwaine was the one that Merlin looked to for help first- even though Lancelot knew about his magic. It was just natural that it had to be Gwaine. Arthur would save his life. Arthur was his other side. Arthur in many ways would understand him as no other person could, but Gwaine – Gwaine was Gwaine. Merlin needed him.

And now, George. George. Perfect George. Oh by the Gods, what had happened just a few moments ago? He saw Merlin perform magic and he hadn't batted an eye. George just – automatically accepted Merlin without an explanation. He even told Merlin that to trust him. Merlin's brain nearly melted. George treated Merlin like a Lord. No, he treated him like he would Arthur. No. He treated Merlin better than he treated Arthur. He had been – warmer in his conduct. Thoughtful, even. He brought him clothes from the servants and had Arthur pay for them, crafty little bugger. There was more to George than Merlin suspected, but he had no time to think about the other manservant right now. He had to much to do and even though Gaius was out helping a woman deliver a baby, and even though that could take all night, Merlin wasn't keen on the idea of wasting any time.

Merlin was restless. He had been feeling restless. He hadn't been attending Arthur. He had been kept in his room. He had been physically bound and being able to move freely was – well – welcome.

Trying to keep George out of his mind, Merlin padded his way through the castle like any other cat, as if he owned the place. He preferred this form to the form of the rat when it came to getting somewhere fast. No one thought much of a cat. However rats were better for lengthy spying as they were practically invisible and easy to occupy small spaces. Merlin even wove his slender body through legs, not bothering to worry who they belonged to or what was going on around him. No one noticed the black cat even when he slunk through the kitchens to follow the servants pathway. He padded purposefully down a flight of stairs right past a set of guards and swished his tail lazily at them without even stopping. Thanks to the weather the windows and doors were closed, but a little bit of magic would go a long way in this instance. He wandered down a long hallway on the first floor to an unused room that was usually reserved for visitors. A flash of gold, a flick of the tail, and in he went.

His nose twitched. The room stank like dust and dried flowers. He would have to do something about it before it was assigned to anyone. Who ever was supposed to clean this room had neglected their duties, which was not uncommon. Sometimes servants just skipped unnecessary things when work piled up. Prioritizing was something they all were guilty of and if Merlin could fix it without getting anyone in trouble, he would. It was an ugly room anyway, decorated in a faded brown and some kind of vomit inspired pink. Uther was guilty of having all his taste in his mouth. The smell was hideous and it made his stomach turn. Merlin sneezed, but he had little time to spend on unpleasant feelings. With golden eyes, the window unlatched and swung open. His lithe body made the jump to the sill easily and his thoughts turned only to dragons and his curiosities as he slipped into the elements.

Cats aren't really made for navigating in deep snow. The snow was definitely deeper than Merlin was tall, so he tried bouncing his way through it. He was having a terrible time. Mentally he called out for his dragons to be patient. He called to them and said that he was coming to them. He cursed the snow and headed for the gates. The wind savagely blew, effectively obscuring his vision. However the warlock would not be denied – as always he found a way with the help of a little magic.

* * *

Pubs were great. Gwaine loved pubs. Everyone knew that Gwaine loved pubs. He loved dragging people to pubs. The noise was wonderful. The singing, the bragging, and the lying. The alcoholic spinning your head to the point where it was possible to believe that the skinny kid across the bar could actually bed every woman in the down town area or that the elderly man with one leg had been a legendary dancer and acrobat in his time. It was all good fun. Everyone was a hero, a rogue and everyone was a fool – and it was fantastic. He had spent a good amount of coin in pubs, but tonight the drinks were free and it had been so easy getting Elyan completely sloshed. He had watched with grand amusement as a barmaid buried the gentle knight's fading consciousness into her ample bosom.

There was only one person who made him feel like he was at a pub when he was sober and that was Merlin – his friend was all things, but his friend was also a very busy warlock. Gwaine sighed and tried to stay focused on the task at hand. It was important that he did not mess this up. A future hung in the balance!

"Is he going to be alright?" asked Mae, who was in Gwaine's opinion exactly what Elyan needed to become a better man. She was sweet and honest. Her hair was like spun gold and her heart was richer than the vaults of Camelot.

Gwaine explained to her that Elyan might not be alright at all. He told her with all sincerity that Gwen was Elyan's sister and that the poor man was heart broken with his only family banished from Camelot. He told Mae that Elyan was malnourished, cut off from the milk of human kindness for all his bonds had been cut and even though he had good friends – it just wasn't the same. It was hard to love a fellow knight like a brother for the dangers they face might rob them of that brother. The mourning might destroy their ability to focus. To fight. Oh, it was a tragic existence. Needless to say, by the time Gwaine was done, Elyan's face was being held tightly pressed into the softness of an otherwise untouchable barmaid, an enviable place by many. Mae was determined to care for the man no matter how proud he was. Gwaine warned her that Elyan was a private man. He was shy. He might even resist. Mae's innocent blue eyes were ablaze with determination as she drug the focus of her new found adoration out of the pub and up the back stairs.

"He won't thank you for that," chuckled Leon clapping Gwaine on the shoulder.

Gwaine smiled roguishly with numbed lips, he didn't care if Elyan was grateful. Mae would be good for him. He knew her well and had admired how she deflected all advances on her person. She was kind, but firm to the patrons. She indulged Gwaine's flirtations, but did not encourage them. At first, he had intended to attach her to Merlin – but after finding out that Merlin had magic – he would have to find someone more exotic for the boy. Preferably someone with the same talent.

"Doesn't matter if he thanks me. He doesn't know what he needs. He's alone now. He's not the type who does well when he's alone," slurred the handsome knight. He slung an arm over Leon's shoulder and laughed a little, "With a little luck, he won't put up much of a struggle. Mae won't tolerate it anyway. She's a good lass, did you see her..."

"Hard to miss!" admitted Leon cutting off Gwaine before he had a chance to detail her physical attributes.

"How about you?" asked Leon.

"Me?"

Leon smiled sadly, "You. You're alone. Why don't you look for a more permanent relationship? You could have had Mae if you tried. If you could land her for someone else, you could have found a way to have her for yourself."

"Ah, that," the handsome smile faltered a little. Gwaine took a long drink from his tankard and sighed as he swayed a little in the familiar feeling of alcoholic anesthetizing. He traced the top lip of his tankard delicately with his forefinger and then tilted his head heavily to one side. "Leon, have you ever thought about what it would be like to go out there... into that... with someone waiting for you at home? Some people can do it. Some knights like to, escape a nag. They get themselves a nag, the kind that eat you alive like moths eat trousers. Bollocks exposed all the time, freezing or burning in the sun. Some need to run from that."

"Yeah and what's your point?" asked Leon.

"I'd love it," declared the charming knight.

Leon laughed.

"Honestly, I couldn't do this," admitted Gwaine his voice went up a little when he had said _'this'_. He started to chuckle weakly before he started his confession, "I wouldn't mind the nagging. Expose my bullocks to the world! Wave em in the wind! And sure, maybe I might even have to give up drinking. For me to have someone, to give myself to... Leon, mate, listen. Nothing short of irony in a dress is going to turn my head. She has got to be a total man eater. Some people are cut out for it, you know. I can't. I'd be happy. It would be, my friend, a terrible thing. So you see, I could never do it. I'd cease to be..me, I think. I doubt that someone that magnificent exists," Gwaine smiled sadly as Leon doubled over in laughter proclaiming Gwaine to be a terrible man. It didn't matter to Gwaine if he was a terrible man or a good man when it came to love.

Love would either come to him or it wouldn't. He didn't want to be like his father. He didn't want to die and leave someone broke and in need with mouths to feed. He didn't want leave a void. His father hadn't even left a memory and the lack of a memory had instilled in Gwaine ideals that made the knight wonder if he would even live up to his own expectations of himself.

"You know, despite the storm the party rages on!" the barkeep bragged waving a tankard. It was true. The citizens kept each other company in the pubs, sharing firewood. They kept each other warm. Mead filled their bellies as well as bread. Stews were watered down into soups. Grains were laced in to expand in bellies to give the feeling of fullness.

Not many people went home, instead they used the inns and pubs as shelters. It was Arthur's idea. The drinking kept people distracted and entertained. Wood went further. Only the knights, servants, and members of the army actually went back to their barracks. Nobles were starting to share each other's company more and more lately. It kept Aggravaine away from their tables and when he invaded anyway, it kept him from speaking openly.

Until something could be done about the storm, there was nothing that could be done except ration what they could. However right now, there was no need to incite panic. For now, it was better to encourage the people to use the storm as an excuse to seek enjoyment at the expense of the crown. Drinks were on the Pendragons after all.

"My tankard is empty," said Gwaine sadly.

"Not for long!" exclaimed the cheerful barkeep handing him a full tankard.

Leon hiccuped.

"You alright, mate?"

"Yeah."

He didn't look alright. Gwaine's head was swimming, but it didn't matter. It was all about the magic of the pub! "You want to play cards?"

"No money," Leon said sadly.

Gwaine chuckled, "We'll play for clothes, ok? If you lose, I'll give yours to Merlin. If I lose, you give mine to Merlin, since his got ruined. Actually, I have a brilliant idea." Gwaine stood on the bar, swaying dangerously, "We're going to play cards for cards, four tables of clothes, I mean cards. All clothes lost will go to Arthur's manservant, Merlin, who got blown out of his by this weather beastie. We all love Merlin and if you don't love Merlin - you should! So how about it? If you win, you are a GOD of cards, if you lose – we know you've got bullocks. So. Lets do this!"

Players filed into chairs at the indicated tables, all emboldened. Even a few women sat down.

This was going to be interesting. Gwaine thanked the God's for his luck as he sat down at a table that not only had Leon, a beautiful young perky redhead nameless to him so far but she smiled widely at him with a flush to her cheeks, and a young fellow who was scrawny – and had a look of recklessness about him. People gathered around. Side bets were being placed. A sense of lawlessness was growing, but the fun factor was increasing hand over fist!

It was good to be alive.


	18. Chapter 18

Once out of the gates, Merlin shielded himself in spells and shifted into his human form. Hostile magic lashed against him, but it like fending off Kilgharrah. Easy. Merlin was glad that Arthur and the others were not with him or he would have to take a bolt for the sake of being "normal." He ran for the field without a care in the world even though the heavens around him crackled and shrieked with power in his wake.

Two forms waited for him on the edge of the clearing and his heart lurched against his ribcage. Either they had heard his mental calls or they had believed in him, it didn't matter which – Merlin plowed through the snow with tears in this eyes. He barked out a greeting to his kin and waved an arm over his head, panting. These creatures, strange and lovely beings, believed in him.

"I'm here!" shouted Merlin again relief in his voice. He was happy to see them. Aithusa keened, but made no move to fly to him. Instead the small dragon stayed in the shelter of the larger dragon's half stretched wing, his white claws fastened tightly to the ground below. Still, the little dragon vibrated in happiness, his warlock had finally come.

The large ancient dragon grumbled in a hurt tone, "Young warlock I feared the worst for you when you did not come. Why is it that I am to respond to your summons, but you are at your leisure to ignore mine? Are we not kin?"

Merlin looked up at his friend, annoyed, he was tired of being lectured, "Kilgharrah, I've had a hard time getting away from Gaius. Something happened. I've been under watch. I'm supposed to be under care."

"I cannot understand if you do not tell me, Merlin."

"What do you need from me, Kilgharrah? You two have been driving me mad calling to me day and night. I'm finally here and now you're reprimanding me on how long I took to get here? Forgive me if I'm not exactly thrilled about that. I've been having a hard time lately."

"You must tell me Merlin about what has been going on," insisted the Great Dragon who winced as a bolt of brightness attempted to strike the warlock, but Merlin batted the bolt away with some magic shielding as if it were nothing. Fragments of the bolt danced along the ground like stray bits of static electricity, but the warlock flicked them away with the back of his hand.

Merlin, hesitantly, started to explain, "The storm is magic. You know that much Kilgharrah. I got injured by it. I'm healed. Gaius has been hiding the fact that I'm alright." Kilgharrah was one to go to in a crisis. He was kin. He also had his own agenda. He was also a slave to Destiny himself. Merlin wasn't quite sure what the dragon's role exact role was, but even if he was kin – he could have a cold and clinical approach to getting a result.

"Injured," said Kilgharrah as if he were tasting the word and found the word vile. "Do not lie to me, Merlin."

"I'm not," protested Merlin haughtily. "What do you want, Kilgharrah? I didn't come out here to be accused of lying!"

"I'm sorry," said Kilgharrah quietly, "I guess you didn't. I guess that's what you actually believe, isn't it? You think you're fine as you've always been fine." The old dragon sighed wearily and he braced himself against another blast of wind as another blast of lightning attempted to blast Merlin. "We've had guests from the East."

"Wha.." Merlin tried to ask but the storm howled behind him. Kilgharrah roared back and slashed behind his warlock, before he grabbed up his dragon lord with his forepaws and then hastily rose to his haunches. Without warning he took flight. Squealing in protest Aithusa followed with difficulty – cursing furiously in dragon tongue.

Merlin muttered a warming spell through chattering teeth – trying to convince himself that Kilgharrah had a reason for this behavior. He closed his eyes and recited to himself all the reasons why he doesn't want Kilgharrah to die.

High over the clouds, a disk of marble floated. It was here that Kilgharrah had taken his dragon lord. Aithusa, panting and grumbling, landed next to the warlock – however the little dragon was to tired to continue his cursing. The disk was edged in silvers and golds. In the center of the disk was a small hut surrounded by a fishpond that had stepping stones in it so that a person could get to the hut without getting wet feet. This place was strange, but peaceful. The storm wasn't here, that was one relief.

"_Our_ guests, are there," Kilgharrah indicated the hut with one claw before folding his wings neatly and staring through his dragon lord. "Merlin, I'm sorry, I wasn't able to explain. We were under attack back there. Either way, the truth comes out now, and you will have choices to make. Choices that you won't want to make."

Merlin nodded and made his way to the hut.

* * *

Half of the clientele of The Rising Sun were naked by the time Arthur got there. Most of the patrons were to wasted to even bother worrying about their dignity however Gwaine, half dressed from the waist down, was carrying an arm load of clothes. Leon, red from head to toe, was trying to cover himself with his hands a buxom redhead was pressing against him from behind giggling. She obviously did not care her prince had just walked into the pub.

"What on Earth?" exclaimed the royal with extra disgust at the depravity displayed.

Gwaine's face split into a grin.

"I don't have time to deal with this. Explanations will have to wait," Arthur growled, "We have work to do."

* * *

Five foreign looking strangers sat on green mats drinking from white cups. The smallest one, a female with a dark straight hair, looked up and glared at Merlin when he walked into the room, "You are finally here, Emrys. I was starting to think that you would make us wait for eternity."

Her voice was like a bell.

"I-I-I..I, didn't realize, t-that," Merlin stuttered searching for words.

An exaggerated blond woman scolded the the first one, "Ginny, he could not have known we were waiting for him. Don't be rude. I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation why he was detained and he doesn't even owe us any reason at all. If anything he owes the explanation to his dragons! Just relax will you?"

Secretly Merlin marveled at the second speaker. He imagined how she must have had some spectacular back muscles to support her attributes. She was upright and that in itself was either physical prowess or magic or both. The others looked away and avoided his gaze, they were only along to accompany the little one or so it seemed.

"Quiet!" snapped Ginny at the blond women. As tiny as she looked, she commanded the room. Merlin stood patiently, like he would for Arthur, with his feet slightly parted, hands behind his back, and his shoulders squared. He readied himself for some sort of ridiculous request. Ginny modified her tone when addressing Merlin, "Emrys, please.., uh, You should not still be standing."

"Errr?"

"Please sit?" asked Ginny with sweeping gesture. Merlin found himself staring at the little woman before him. As oddly attired in a robe of green with embroidered gold dragon flies – she might as well have been wearing a disgusting amount of wealth. The fabric was rare, the bead work was intricate, and from what he could tell – she wore a small fortune in jewelry. Her eyes were her strangest feature, for they were the blackest black and shaped like almonds. Merlin found himself lost within them. He sat down before her, staring deeply into her eyes until Ginny began to blush furiously. "Stop staring!"

"Errr, sorry," apologized the warlock matching her blush and looking away for a moment, confused for lack of anything for anything better to say or for anything else to do – he picked at his neckerchief. The silence was getting to him. While Ginny was squirming around in her blush the other foreigners were now staring at him and he found his discomfort growing. Eventually, he found his voice again, "Why are we here? What is this meeting about?"

"Emrys..."

"Merlin," he corrected.

"Fine. Have it your way, Emrys. As I was saying,_ Merlin,_" Ginny's bell like voice filled the small room. Each word rang with a purity of sound. She was so exotic looking that she could not be completely human. Merlin liked the way she smelled. "I have come to ask you to, well, stop playing around."

Merlin barked out a laugh, "What? What do you mean?"

Ginny frowned, "You allow magic to suffer. You haven't finished anything. Granted, it might be more _interesting _to leave loose ends but honestly all you are accomplishing is … forgive me, Lord, for speaking so plainly, but... uh.. all you're doing is being _cruel._"

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut. So much was wrong with what Ginny had said to him. "I think you have the wrong person. I'm not a Lord. I'm just Merlin. It's my destiny to see Arthur to become the Once and Future King. I'm just a warlock. Granted, I have a little more ability than others, but that's about it. My part in destiny, to be part of Albion being born? I'd be very proud to see that happen. As for the rest? I'm not doing anything except protecting Arthur. I'm not being cruel. I'm not leaving anything unfinished. I am sorry, but you might have me confused for someone else."

Ginny shook her head, "You don't know? You haven't realized? You, Merlin. are so much more than that. You are Emrys."

"I don't understand."

Ginny held her tiny hand out, palm up and Merlin hesitated before he covered it with his, "Lets talk outside."

* * *

For the moment, the storm had ceased it's centralized attack on Camelot. It brief reprieve gave way to opportunity for precious firewood collection. Several servants organized the citizens from the lower town. They combed the forest to pick up kindling and to break down any fallen branches. Wagons went out to collect grain, food and other sundries from neighboring villages. Arthur sent knights to check on borders, but even as his orders were carried out – he kept his eyes sky ward.

The druid had never mentioned the possibility of a break in the attack. Had Emrys done something? Arthur did not believe the attack was over. From what the druid said... He wouldn't worry about that right now, right now all he could do was prepare for the rest of the siege.

Several kitchen maids led by George went out into the fields under Gaius's instructions went foraging for medicinal plants. With Merlin still laid up, precious supplies would be needed. They had to travel far by foot since most of the vegetation had been devastated by the snows. What was worse, the colder weather had been advancing naturally in parts not affected by the magical storm and what was needed by the physician was withering or unable to be found. When George and the maids came back almost empty handed, Arthur had a fit. He filled George's pocket with gold and sent him off on horseback with Gwaine as his bodyguard in hope that he could find supplies from a nearby village. Gaius would have had much powdered or dried in reserve, but thanks to a paranoid kingdom always breaking or tipping over his supplies – well – it was safe to say that Camelot was going to have to attempt to buy questionable supplies from unknown suppliers in order to make it through the winter. Winter was when most of the population would at one time would succumb to some form of illness. This year it would be difficult to say the least.

Precious feed for horses and livestock was carted in by the wagon load. Standing in the middle of the square Arthur barked orders, wishing not for the first time, that Merlin was here to take over this duty. His manservant had a practical head on his shoulders and understood these matters better since he had grown up as a simple farm boy. Arthur asked the stable boy how much hay and oats the horses needed daily and the boy went mute from the shock from being asked a simple question! It was so annoying! He tried not to show his frustration. He tried to think of the words Merlin would tell him, "you have to believe in people or they won't believe in you. They won't believe in what they are doing is worth the effort. If you are brave, they will be brave. If you are calm, they will be calm."

Merlin was so much better at organizing for a siege than Arthur. He was half tempted to run to the physicians chamber and demand step by step instructions on how to pull this off, but Arthur's pride kept him from running to Merlin. He had to do this himself. He had to show Merlin that he could do this and he had to prove this to himself. Aggravaine had a few nuggets of wisdom that were almost counterproductive, but Arthur ignored them. They were time wasters.

Eye to the skies, Arthur put his mind to priorities: _Security. Health. Food. Water. Sanitation._

Simple, right? Oh how he wished. After all of this, he might just let Gwaine soak his brain in mead - IF he was guaranteed not to end up naked. He made a mental note to ask about that and then ran to help an elderly man catch an escaped chicken.

* * *

Her hand was so small. He felt like he was being led by a child. Ginny led Merlin outside the hut to stand on the edge and look down into breaks of the clouds to the earth below. The world looked so small from up here. His problems were connected to the ground below and while up here – for a moment he was removed from them. A small breeze lifted strands of Ginny's hair and it danced around her. Merlin thought of ribbons rather than snakes – her hair was very shiny.

Another small hand reached out and hovered in the air, invitingly. Merlin took it in his, wondering what it was they were doing. He would play along. He was patient, but he did not have much time to spend here. He did sneak out last night and now it was daylight. He had no idea how long or how far Kilgharrah had flown, but it was daylight here. Gaius was going to be furious with him.

"Merlin. You have left many matters unfinished for the sake of protecting the Once and Future King. He is part of your destiny, but he is only part of your destiny. One would think you would prioritize better, Merlin. After all, he has failed you admittedly through no fault of his own – however you do have your duties. You can't keep doing what you are doing without taking responsibility for what you are doing. It's getting bothersome. You're causing pain. You defeat many and leave them without a leader. For instance, you killed the King of the Sidhe," explained Ginny.

Merlin interrupted, "Arthur has never let me down. And the Sidhe King? He tried to kill me! I was asleep and he tried to assassinate me!"

Ginny shook her head, "That does not matter. You killed the Sidhe King," explained Ginny, "You have not taken your place as their leader. Instead you abandon them. They are a violent and vicious people with strong magic. They are strange and powerful. They can be the worst of enemies but also powerful allies. You conquered them and disregard your responsibility."

Merlin recoiled, "What?"

"When you killed Nimueh, you willed the magic to restore Gaius. The rain that would normally fill the cup, fell on Gaius directly. You don't need the cup itself to do the magic. You abandoned the cup itself and so it fell into the hands of the druids. You know the rest."

"But...I pulled down lightning."

"And, it killed her and then the rain came and that water revived Gaius. Did you not think it strange that he did not have to drink from the cup? Did you think that you just reversed her spell or something? Would that have made sense? If you stopped her spell, wouldn't that have meant your mother would have been ill again?"

"I never thought of it," admitted Merlin.

Ginny nodded sadly, "You don't like thinking about it, do you?"

Merlin sighed. "How do you know these things?" asked Merlin suspiciously, "How do you know about me?"

"I know the prophecies and the scriptures. I have traveled to speak to you about them. It is my duty. My friends have chosen to keep me company on my journey. It is my duty to impart certain knowledge to you, however I did not realize how much you did not know. The prophecies say much, but they are not as detailed as we would like them to be. I'm sure you have had a taste of what I speak of – it's like getting a straight answer from a dragon."

Merlin laughed at that. The tension he was feeling lifted a little, only a little, he still felt as if this woman was adding to his destiny burden and he did not like it.

"What else?"

"According to the scripture, if it is correct, you are still ignoring the druids even though they need you."

"They have their leaders!" Merlin protested realizing to late that he was confirming yet another one of the woman's accusations of his crimes. Her hands trembled in his. He stroked his thumbs gently over her soft palms.

"You are their _Lord_, Emrys!" snapped Ginny who then took a deep breath and added, "And now, the one thing I know for sure I must tell you, please forgive me – well... The one thing that it is _my duty_ to tell you above all else, you must put an end to the old religion itself. Ease its suffering, Emrys," pleaded Ginny, awkwardly.

"No. You cannot be serious. No. I want magic to be welcome again. I want magic to be respected. I want people to know it can be a force for good!" argued Merlin.

"Why allow the old religion to sputter? It's practically offering you its throat! And you ignore it! It does suffer and you allow it to writhe. As it suffers, the earth itself suffers. Do you not care the tragedy that it causes? World wide in places you cannot see because you do not live there, people are dying because of the old religion's death throes. The earth quakes and tsunamis. Floods and droughts. Fires and famine. Pestilence and disease. All that and more from Uther's sin. Uther's hatred. Uther's false retribution, but you prolong it by not finishing the job. You are a creature of magic – you should feel the pain of the old religion. You should know that it is past its time."

Merlin swallowed. He did not feel it.

Ginny frowned at him. The disapproving lines morphed her doll like face into a more human looking mask, "Are you afraid of the priestesses? You've killed many. There are not many left. As for the remaining creatures..."

"No. Wait. You've been talking nonsense. I am not. I have not. You're INSANE! AND... You... Yknow what? That is... Uhtth... What...the hell? I can't kill the old religion. I can't kill off MAGIC!" roared Merlin angrily.

Ginny let go of his hands and met his blue eyes with the sincerest saddest expression Merlin had ever seen. Her little hands pulled at each other and pearl like teeth bit into a full bottom lip as tears raced down her cheeks.


	19. Chapter 19

He had thought he had heard every ridiculous excuse there was – after all _Mer_lin was his manservant. Merlin was loyal and told the truth when it was important, but when he lied – he lied so badly it wasn't worth shaking the truth out of him. Merlin's lies, as laced with hope as they were that he would be believed, were akin to the boy saying "I don't really want to talk about it, thank you." However, Arthur was considering whether Gwaine was better, worse, or on par with his hapless servant for idiotic ideas disguised lightly as excuses.

"And why," Arthur felt a twitch developing in his left eye, "did you invite four tables of gambling to join you in your efforts to provide clothing for my manservant?" The words felt sticky and unappealing as Arthur said them. This was not his fault for suggesting that people use the pubs as emergency shelters to conserve wood, this was Gwaine's fault.

Gwaine's logic spun painfully Arthur's brain. Each word, punctuated by the sunny smile encouraged the twitch a bit more. The knight was fixated on Merlin. Granted if it weren't for Merlin, Arthur wouldn't of had Gwaine as a knight. Actually, he wouldn't have had Lancelot either and Lancelot had brought along Percival. And, without Merlin...

_-twitch- _

_It must have been some sort of Camelot wide conspiracy to support Merlin_, suspected Arthur as conspiracies began to form in his head. His manservant was his friend as well, but had this skinny boy actually have touched enough people donate the very clothes off their backs? Granted there weren't many people like Merlin, if there was one – Arthur would be surprised. There weren't many who believed in the goodness of others the way that Merlin did. He was always looking at the larger view of situations instead of individual pieces. He didn't see a hungry sick old man as one person, he saw the man as symptom of a potential crisis. He treated individuals kindly as if – as if – if any one person were poisoned in any way that Camelot could fall from the abscess. Granted the human body could cease to function and a person could die from infection aaaaand Merlin did live with Gaius. However, Merlin was like this when he first got here. He stood up for Arthur's former servant. He would be seen differently than others. Was it enough though? Was that really enough for that kind of behavior, drunk or not? To ease Arthur's unsettled emotions, he would tell himself that _they had been coerced by Gwaine_.

_-twitch- _

There were plenty of knights who had pledged life, limb, and their honor – to Arthur. Merlin had not extracted such oaths and yet..

_-twitch- _

_-twitch- _

Arthur dismissed Gwaine, but not before assigning him extra duties. He gave Gwaine the demeaning duty of helping Gaius. Partially because it was insulting to treat a knight like an inventory man and partially because it would help Gaius in an official way. It was the type of duty that wold suit Gwaine. He'd be rewarded because he would be around Merlin, but he wouldn't be able to spin any heroic tales from close proximity to the skinny manservant. He wouldn't be able to impress the ladies at the tavern.

Clipping Gwaine's bragging potential was severe punishment in many ways and it encouraged the widest and most annoying smile on Arthur's face.

* * *

After a long painful conversation that Merlin didn't quite understand, he stood facing the messenger unsure of what to say or do next. Ginny wasn't skilled at pretending to be human and Merlin wasn't sure if she had stolen her appearance from a child's doll – he knew he couldn't trust his eyes here. He wanted to ask so many questions, but there wasn't time. Gaius was going to skin him alive – if he was lucky. So Merlin picked only one from the flood of questions that streamed through his head.

"What is this place?"

"A place between. We made it to hide from the Old Religion."

"What did you make it from?"

Ginny smiled serenely, "A bit of this and a bit of that, but mostly … from dreams."

Merlin turned from her, muttering about crazy people, creatures of magic, and nothing making sense. He strode towards Kilgharrah, who had been anxiously watching from a safe distance. Merlin didn't have time to think about what he had been told. He wanted to discuss it with his kin. He knew enough to know that he did not want to stay here even if it did smell nice. Ginny might be interesting, but then again lots of unpleasant people and things had caught his attention in the past.

"We're leaving," announced Merlin to the older dragon as Aithusa came to perch on his shoulder and squawk complaints in dragon tongue about being ignored, being thirsty, and wanting the ridges along his spine scratched. Growing made for itchy skin and Aithusa looked on his Dragon Lord like a living back scratcher.

Kilgharrah rumbled, but did not comment. The ancient dragon was agitated, but focused on the doll-like Ginny who had turned to watch Merlin's retreating form. He bowed his great head for the young warlock to be able to climb to his customary spot behind his head ridges. Merlin settled himself and directed his kin, "Lets go, Kilgharrah."

Kilgharrah took the air and flew forward... not down.

"Kilgharrah?"

Aithusa's claws sank into the shoulder of his new jacket, a white tail whipped around Merlin's neck, and the white dragon began to keen. Merlin twisted to see Ginny's friends join her on the edge of the marble disk. They held hands and then the marble disk shattered. Flecks of silver and gold replaced the space where they had been and plummeted towards the earth like glittering sand.

The storm slammed into Kilgharrah with renewed fury and Merlin tore his gaze from the destroyed magical disk wondering for only a moment what happened to Ginny and her friends. Aithusa wormed his way into his jacket and pressed against his back as Kilgharrah's struggles to navigate became more heroic. The wind stung and the floating magic ice crystals tore at Merlin's exposed skin. Desperately, the warlock stretched out his hand and threw up a shield around the ancient dragon. Instinctively the ancient dragon swerved to dodge bolts of lightning that attempted to strike them down – but Merlin's shield held. Aithusa trembled against his back.

* * *

Meanwhile in the library, Gaius and Geoffrey leaned over an old dusty tome wearing matching expressions of exasperation. Geoffrey glanced anxiously from the page to his friend, whilst Gaius held his magnifying glass stationary over one section of writing: _"and the King of Ages will be lost until He has been returned."_

"This is an annoying passage," complained Gaius. "Where did you find this book?"

Geoffrey shifted in his chair and sighed, "I remembered last night that King Uther had captured a book of druid legends and prophecies. It took me forever to find it, it had been placed in a trunk with some other – illegal writings."

_Magic Books._

"Normally, the druid writings in this section of the book focus on _The Once and Future King_, this is the first reference to the _King of Ages_."

Arthur, who had been summoned by the elderly scholar, sighed and leaned his weight against his elbows on the table. "I'll take your word for it. I can't read this writing."

"It's written in the language of the Old Religion," explained Gaius as he read down the page. "I can see why you are concerned, this is a very heavy prophecy."

"Read it to me," demanded Arthur.

The scholar cleared his throat and read clearly, _"Albion's Destiny will tremble as the Old Religion writhes in pain. The new king will fumble and all futures will hang on the hopes of dragon wings. If and when The Once and Future King will rise. If and when The King of Ages will rise. The lands will prosper as never before and man will rejoice. The lands will tremble in his mercy and man will rejoice. The lands will claim Him or He will claim them and man will rejoice. If Destiny shatters, the King of Ages will be lost until He has been returned. If the King is lost – man will suffer."_

"This makes no sense to me," complained Arthur in what he hoped was a calm voice. The druid leader who'd come to visit him had called him, The Once and Future King. He wasn't sure if he liked the new title or the heavy responsibility that came with it. He secretly wished that he could ask the druid for his opinion about the book.

Gaius squirmed in his chair.

"I asked you to find references to Emrys," whined Arthur, knowing his was acting more and more childish.

"There is more, but there is some damage to the book. Some of the pages have been torn or crumbled from time. This is a very old tome," Geoffrey said reverently as he his eyes stroked the pages before him as if he could visually drink in ancient wisdom. "I need more time to go through this book to see if there is any mention of Emrys. There are a few more books like this that I need to read. It's going to take some time."

Gaius perked up, "I can help. I can easily read the Old Religion. George has done a lot of work for me and now with Gwaine being assigned to me, I have the time for something like this. I'm having Gwaine do my deliveries."

Arthur didn't say anything about Gaius's history of dabbling in magic or about the wisdom of giving Gwaine responsibility.

"Do what ever it takes. I don't know how long the break in the weather is going to last," commanded Arthur as he stood and stretched.

* * *

"Have you found him?" Gwaine asked George and the servant shook his head no.

"No one has seen him. He's gone."

Gwaine huffed. He didn't mention Merlin's magic to George and it wouldn't help by asking the castle servants to find him a black cat or what ever creature Merlin might have decided to turn into. The servant smoothly filled a jar with crushed mint leaves, "Remember, Merlin's recovering. Rumor has it that he has been making time with one of the maids. I suspect he's making use of his time off of work to spend with a girl. I wouldn't worry. Merlin's rather intelligent."

Gwaine raised his eyebrows and studied the servant and then he lied, "Oh. Yeah. Her. He's told me about her..."

"You know which maid? As I said, it's only a rumor," supplied George.

"Oh, no. Merlin never mentioned and I admire a man who preserves the honor of his lady. He's a good man. He's not the kiss and tell type," grinned Gwaine through his deceptions, "Merlin's always finding time to sneak away for _her_."

With nimble fingers, George began chopping the roots of dried chicory root into two inch sections. He lined the bottom of a baking tray with the pale dried roots. When he was done with that he started lining the bottom of another baking tray with more roots.

"What's that for?" asked the knight.

George shrugged, "Gaius didn't say. I'm just following instructions. I'm supposed to roast the dried roots at an even modest temperature, same as bread, for half of the afternoon. After I'm done, I'm supposed to fill in for Merlin again and tend to the polishing."

_Polishing_ was said with emphasis.

* * *

Merlin was exhausted, he could not shield against all of the wind for if he did then Kilgharrah would fall. Magic was a tricky thing. Keeping them shielded against the lightning was difficult and he was beginning to have suspicions about the snow. He knew it was magical, but now he was beginning to think it was more than pretty or decoration. It was part of the attack. The cold sapped Merlin of his strength as the cold knifed through his clothing cruelly. Like the first flight, he found himself close to drifting off to sleep, but he resisted for the sake of his kin. Kilgharrah's flew sluggishly and with much difficulty.

"Warming spell,"muttered Merlin.

"A bit late for that," Kilgharrah answered.

Merlin's heart sank. He hadn't thought of how the cold would feel to his kin or how it would interfere with his flying. Returning to Camelot was proving more difficult than leaving. Merlin's eyes watered against the wind as his shield began to falter. On the horizon he could see Avalon..

"Kilgharrah!" cried the warlock inspired with an idea, "Head towards Avalon!"

The dragon rumbled in complaint and Merlin felt it through his legs even before the words drifted to his ears after the insult in dragon tongue passed, the question was posed, "Have you decided what to do with the Sidhe then? Is it really the time to go to them?"

"Head towards Avalon!"

It might have been a good idea to talk it over first. It might have been a good idea to have a plan. The Sidhe were a cruel and vicious people. Merlin had killed their king. Merlin had mastered their magic. Merlin used the lake to hide a great sword. He had entombed a woman there for eternity. He had gone off with his life as if the Sidhe had not mattered much to him and now he was returning to Avalon and this time – he would ask them for a favor.


	20. Chapter 20

Clouds threatened, but the storm had not returned – yet. Camelot had been buzzing in anticipation and when the clouds reformed, Arthur's speeches and public appearances to alleviate the increasing anxieties. Of course most of these had been encouraged by Gaius in attempt to keep the young royal from noticing that the warlock had gone missing, but unless the magical misfit was found soon – there would be no way to continue the lie. It was after midnight when a tall thin figure entered Camelot through the southern gates and slipped unnoticed into the castle in full sight of the guards.

It was cold.

While it was nice to have company at supper, having extra mouths to feed meant extra work. Gaius stirred in grain and sliced root vegetables into boiling water. A bowl of chopped bitter greens would add flavor to the pottage, but Gaius would wait until the root vegetables were mostly soft so that they wouldn't completely cook to mush. Merlin had requested it of him often enough for him to try to attempt to cook the way his ward preferred it – even if the boy wasn't home to appreciate it. George was clever enough to bring two loaves of dark bread and some cheese from the castle kitchens. It was practically a feast that they had put together and if Gwaine joined them again, there would be mead as well.

Once he had eaten his suppers alone, and then Merlin had entered his daily life. Now he was surrounded by young people. Gaius was blessed and he was cursed. He was no longer alone but the one person he cared for the most was missing and it hurt him.

The elderly physician watched George polish bottles meticulously from across the room. Cleaning and polishing bottles was something he never even bothered to do, but George did it without direction. The court physicians chambers had never been so neat or organized in the entire time that Gaius had held the position. George had really put his full effort into making the place shine. Arthur hadn't officially or permanently assigned the servant to him, but he was hanging about the place as if it were his duty. Granted thanks to George, there was also more food about, but the amount of privacy went down to zero.

It was right after Gaius threw in the bitters into the pottage that Merlin shuffled into the room.

"Merlin! Where have you been?" exclaimed Gaius, unsure of what to do or say – rushing to his side. Alarmed for the condition his ward had returned home in, but grateful that a healthy, bouncy warlock had not sprang through the door. It was to late to hide anything from George. Gaius had no idea that George already knew to much for the servant had not disclosed anything to the elderly physician.

"Long story," said Merlin who had selected a chair to settle himself down into, but not before he had nodded a greeting at George. He was as dirty as he would have been as if he'd been working in the field all day. He moved stiffly as if he were very old. He propped one frail elbow on the table and fanned delicate fingers as a prop under his chin. Storm colored blue eyes blinked tiredly, but he was home. It was a relief. Quietly he asked of Gaius, "Please don't be upset with me."

"I wish I could be. I should be," admitted Gaius. "However, right now I think you need a warm supper rather than a lecture. Now is not the time to discuss anything, I'm just glad that you came home."

It wasn't long before Gwaine joined them. Mead was an excellent addition to the meal. They warmed Merlin's and added a sprig of rosemary and a spoonful of honey to the mug to take the bite out of the beverage. Gwaine had hugged Merlin. He had clasped his shoulder. He had in full smile tore bread and slathered it with butter for Merlin while making comments that tomorrow they will ration but tonight they celebrate Merlin's return – as if Gwaine had planned to celebrate. They all knew the knight was full of it, but no one was going to tame his attempt to show the warlock his devotion.

"I just knew you were coming back soon," said Gwaine before he stared at Merlin and then George and then Merlin again, "George said you were spending time with your lady friend! How was she?"

There was no way anyone would buy that lie from the look of the warlock. He more like had just climbed out of a battlefield than he had from his lover's bed. There was even a bruise that was blossoming on his cheek as if he had been struck. As if he was aware of his physical state, Merlin shook his head sadly at the knight. His spoon had stopped half way between his bowl and his mouth. He sighed, "Gwaine, it's alright. You don't have to... in fact... none of you have to."

George had been eating in his professionally perfect way. Each item scooped into his spoon fit into it just so, or was cut by the edge of his spoon to fit just so – accompanied by the right amount of liquid. George ate masterfully. No drips. No slurps. No noises. George ate as gracefully as he worked. He elegantly held his spoon lightly, but now he put the spoon down and turned his attention towards Merlin. It wasn't to hear the explanation, but rather it was as if Merlin had commanded his attention

The occupants at the table looked from face to face in curiosity.

Gwaine stopped smiling.

"You all know," sighed Merlin, "about me... about my..." and he wagged his fingers with a flourish as if he always did that to cast magic, even though he did not. He put his spoon down as a frown grew on Gaius's face. "George caught me. Gwaine saw me transform. I saved Gaius's life when I first got here. There, now you all know -how you all know."

_The three "G's" _Merlin said to himself in his head.

As if that had concluded the conversation, the warlock shoved chunk of buttered bread into his mouth. His cheeks were smudged with smokey filth were stuffed. He chewed quickly and greedily - despite his drooping eyelids.

"You're lucky there has been a break in the weather," began Gaius, "I've managed to keep Arthur distracted, but your absence could have been discovered. What was I supposed to do? You should consider others. You are supposed to guard your secret with your life and now how many people know? You know better than this, Merlin."

Merlin swallowed the bread with a little help of the warm honeyed mead and then wiped his mouth with the back of one filthy hand. Neither hand nor mouth were any more clean after the action and it was hard to imagine why he had done it, George watched him with a type of fascination. A clean cloth was raised in offering to Merlin, who waved away the offer politely.

The warlock began to speak, "I know. I'm sorry," Merlin looked up at Gaius with a sad smile on his face, "I'm really tired. Is it alright if I get some sleep and we talk about it tomorrow?"

Gaius softened, "Of course it is alright. I'm just glad you're home. Just be more careful. Next time when I tell you "no" - please listen to me. I have my reasons, my boy. I don't enjoy being the one who tells you that you cannot do something. I know you have important work. You are right, though. Now is not the time. You look ready to drop, we'll talk tomorrow. You should get to bed."

Gaius covered one of Merlin's hands with one of his and gave a little squeeze of affection before withdrawing. This earned a genuine smile from the boy's face. Merlin stood shakily and apologized for not washing up, but George announced that he would handle the dishes. George asked Merlin if he would like to bathe, but Merlin said no – he was to tired. He then asked Merlin if there was anything that he required and Merlin once again said no as he retreated. The attempt to treat Merlin like a Lord did not go unnoticed, but neither Gwaine nor Gaius said a word.

* * *

Arthur lay in bed with his pillow half covering his eyes – wishing once again that Merlin had been the one who had attended him instead of George. It had been a tough day. Arthur spent most of it in the library with Geoffrey like some over dressed apprentice. Geoffrey, like Gaius, held no love for Uther – but out of fairness – Arthur doubted that Geoffrey held no affection at all for anything except for knowledge and the pure pursuit of knowledge.

"_Here's something interesting," the potbellied man perked up as he read to Arthur, "Emrys, our Affection and Hope, will not seek us. Yet we are for his use. To Him, we belong. He is the Future."_

_Arthur had laughed a bit, "A bit … romantic? Isn't it? Almost like a girls pledge..."_

"_Or a knights," corrected Geoffrey, "how different is that attitude than a knight's to his King?"_

_That disturbed Arthur, "Surely it's different. Druids are peaceful. While you might get the occasional rogue, as a people they are flower picking mystics. They have almost written a love letter to Emrys. We're wasting time, is there anything here about Emrys and the storm. I need to find something about the storm outside right now." The druid that he had spoken to had given him some information but there were holes that needed filling. The only certainties were that his father had been responsible for the imbalance in magic and now Camelot would suffer if this was allowed to continue. _

"_You young people, always in a rush...," tutted Geoffrey. "Ah, here's something. It's not much. When the storm lulls – the kingdom will fall if Emrys fights alone._

Yeah, if only they had stopped there then sleeping might have come to him by now, but no... he had gotten this instance trait from his father. If he had stopped then he wouldn't be laying here itching to go on a quest. Apparently Camelot had a secret warlock who needed an item, some sort of staff, and of all the magical loot that Uther had stripped from the people since his birth – it wasn't among the treasures in the vault. Arthur and Geoffrey checked the the inventory list and the vault itself. Geoffrey admitted that he had suspicions that Emrys frequented the vaults and there had been evidence of someone browsing banned books that had been locked away – but none of the items had been touched. Well none except the crystal that had been once stolen by a bunch of renegade loser ex druids on having their monthly bleed.

Who ever Emrys was, he didn't seem to be impressed with trinkets from the past. He didn't rely on totems of the Old Religion. The prophecies hinted that he was massively powerful. He was probably some imposing figure that had mastered magic and managed to survive the purge on sheer skill alone. He probably skulked in the shadows, Arthur mused, pitying Uther's madness waiting for the right time to show mercy to the royal family who unjustly judged his kind.

Arthur formed a figure in his mind, bitterly. It didn't make sense. Emrys acted like a friend – but a friend wouldn't remain as a shade. It made his skin crawl to think of someone that he may have never of spoken to was hovering about watching over him like some sort of heroic bat – swooping in with magic to dazzle and confuse and then flitting back into the shadows as if he was never there.

Magic may or may not be evil, but people who had magic made no damn sense at all.

Sleep just wasn't going to come, well, at least not naturally. With some regret Arthur pulled himself out of bed wondering if he could handle a quest with … George at his side.. instead of Merlin. _George and the Immaculate Quest_! If there was ever a reason to beg Gaius to go back to using magic it was now, Arthur wanted Merlin back in action! However even magic wasn't going to get him to sleep. It would require one of Gaius's insanely disgusting potions with the incredible pleasurable spinning into nothing effect. It wasn't something Arthur would want to take on a regular basis, but quality sleep was promised.

_Emrys, you're not as useful or as helpful as Gaius._

Merlin had once teased him, wiggling the bottle inches before him saying, "This is what separates the boys from the men. Disgusting enough that a child will shy from it, but a man does what a man has to do." Arthur had fallen for it and drank it. It was vile. Merlin laughed and added, "Though having a leather tongue, no taste buds, or masking the flavor with a quick pull of mead is sometimes helpful, but look at you! You're much stronger than most men, Arthur! Your people would be so proud, if they only knew."

Arthur couldn't help but wonder if his manservant was a great man or great pest.

Oh piling on the chores after that one had been such a sweet reward for that bit of insolence. However Merlin never learned. He offered the same glib remarks to everyone except for Uther – either a lack of affection, fear, or actual respect kept his mouth closed. Arthur was pretty sure it was a lack of affection though it might have been fear... he wasn't sure. He doubted Merlin had enough sense to be fearful, after all, he mouthed off to Arthur repeatedly when they first met – even after he found out Arthur was the crown prince.

Arthur pulled on a shirt and a decent pair of trousers. He slipped on soft brown leather slippers that Merlin had found for him a few months ago and marveled how nicely they had fit. He hadn't even gotten measured for these, Merlin had them made for him – and they were perfect. Arthur sighed as he decided that he wouldn't bother with a belt. He shuffled past the guards by the door and headed towards the physicians chambers. His skin crawled due to the temperature changes and begged to be scratched, but royalty did not scratch in front of others.

Merlin would help him by distracting his mind past his itches, but what does Camelot's great wizard do? Stalks and does not help with the itch. He might have even caused the itch...

Perhaps if he took George on the quest, Merlin would feel left out and he would heal twice as fast! Merlin did have this strange idea that he was supposed to go everywhere with Arthur so that he could look after Arthur. This made the blond chuckle at the thought of Merlin looking out for him, but in a way – Merlin did. He would drink poison for him. He pulled him away from daggers. He made excuses for his father. _Snuck his skinny self into Arthur's quest and brought Gwaine with him!_ Arthur smiled at that memory. He even tried, failed, but tried to participate in battle – even if it meant laying on his belly yelling "Arthur! Behind you!"

_Ah, Bless..._

Walking down the familiar way to the physicians chambers thinking of old times with an absent smile on his face, he found himself at the door before he realized he had made the entire journey. Thankfully no one could read his mind or they would think of him as some sentimental fool thinking of his manservant as if he were his best mate or something. He was a friend, but Arthur hadn't become as poisoned as Gwaine was on the boy – he wasn't as affected by friendship. He had a kingdom to run and his affections for others couldn't run as freely. He knocked once and then opened the door to find Gaius making something strange in his strange multiple bottle gizmo mini distillation thingamajig.

"Sire?" greeted Gaius, his tone tired but pleasant – and thankfully genuine.

"I was wondering if you had anything already prepared for sleeplessness?" asked Arthur with an embarrassed grin. It was difficult for him to admit that he had weaknesses, but he knew that fatigue was not good for a leader or a warrior. Merlin was right about a few things and one of them was that when rest could be gotten – be greedy for it! One may never know when sleep would be denied.

Gaius shuffled over to a cabinet and started peering at his assortment of bottles. Arthur wasn't sure how he kept from poisoning anyone since none of the bottles were labeled. The physician wasn't getting any younger. One of these days, he could make a fatal mistake! However, Arthur wasn't going to be the one to suggest such things to the man who held the title of court physician for over twenty years. He just hoped that he wasn't going to be the one that would be the victim of accidental poisoning.

"How is Merlin doing?" If only there were a way to be sure that all hope and anxiety had been absent from his voice when he had asked that question...

Gaius grinned a little, "He's fine, Sire. I'm not sure if it was because the lightning was a magical attack or what really happened – but Merlin is perfectly fine now."

_Then why has he not been at work?! _Arthur wanted to scream, but a noise from the upstairs room distracted him. It was the disaster area known as Merlin's bedroom. Not long after the noise did the door slowly creep open and a very sleepy and wobbly Merlin stumble down the ladder, scrubbing at his eyes with the backs of his hands. The greyish nightshirt and stocking feet made the boy look like a stretched out child. Overly tall for his age with a mature elven face. Mumbling he tripped along, knocking a broom and then a bucket over. Eventually he banged into a table, scattering a pile of books to the floor. Merlin backed up and then tried "forward" again.

Merlin had a few bruises and scratches – but he did look "fine." Well actually he looked fresh from a fight, but compared to how badly he must have looked under those bandages... Arthur shivered. Gaius was truly a miracle worker.

The physician, apparently used to this nocturnal wandering, grabbed up a jug and a cup and poured a drink and handed it to the boy who drank deeply. Merlin smacked his lips when he was done. Gaius stopped him by grabbing his cup again, which was held tightly by a swaying Merlin, and put a little more liquid into the cup. He gently turned the boy towards the ladder and pushed him towards his room,"Go back to bed, Merlin"

Once again, Merlin's "forward" brought various items in the room to the floor. Thankfully nothing breakable had been in his path. Merlin wandered back up into his room and the door closed with a soft click.

"As I was saying, Merlin's fine – I've just wanted him to heal completely and get sufficient rest. I was going to send him back to you in two days time. I wanted to give him a chance to catch up on his side work and studies before he went back to his full schedule."

He could come back to work. He could go on the quest! It would be Merlin at his side not George the perfectly perfect. They had to leave soon. Arthur didn't want to wait two days. He had to convince Gaius. Granted, Merlin had been horribly stricken and had only been a few weeks – but Merlin looked like himself!

"Is there any chance that he could come back tomorrow?"

"Sire, he _was _severely injured."

Arthur frowned, "Gaius, I know this is a lot to expect of you. I know how much he means to you, but he is my servant and he knows how I like things. I have an important quest to go on. Merlin is very good at working with the men and..."

"If you're leaving Camelot for any length of time... Merlin would never forgive me if I didn't let him go with you," Gaius frowned and put a small bottle with brown liquid in Arthur's hand, "Both his legs could be broken and he could have one arm and he'd still insist on going with you. He's very stubborn like that."

The young Pendragon's heart lifted. He felt lighter than he had in weeks. Merlin was coming back and no more George! Arthur turned for the door, but he stopped midway, "Gaius?"

"My Lord?"

"Does Merlin... do that?" pointed at the mess Merlin had made, "Often?"

"You've seen the state of his room, Sire. Usually he keeps a full pitcher of water near his bed, but he was so tired before bed he probably forgot tonight. If he gets up, he will walk into things and woe-betide any object in his path. He'll bump into everything until he finds what he was looking for."

"He doesn't do that when we're camping."

"There's nothing to knock over in the forest, my Lord, now if you don't mind – I have to set up two work stations for to.. oh, will you be taking Gwaine with you? I suppose you should..."

"I will be taking Gwaine as well, for this quest, Gaius."

Gaius sighed and admitted bashfully, "I knew it was to good to last. It was such a luxury to have extra hands and young legs about the place. All these stone steps are hard on the back and knees of a man my age, but the exercise is good so it isn't a true complaint."

"Well why don't we swap? I'll take Merlin and Gwaine and you can have the services of George! I've had him help with this and that. I'm sure you've found him efficient. I'm pretty sure that might even be his surname..." joked Arthur. Gaius would say yes. He had already admitted that Merlin would insist on going and Gwaine's duty as a knight came first. Arthur technically did not have to assign George to Gaius, however Arthur hoped that Gaius would take the efficient little bugger under his wing. Maybe if he had George study medicine that would free up some of Merlin's time. George was good at everything so it would work out wonderfully. George could sit up here with Gaius taste testing potions, his tongue warping into something that cannot differentiate between sweet and sour, and maybe just maybe they would find a cure for his polishing fetish.

Arthur suddenly wanted to ask Gaius if he could taste anything, but he didn't. He stood stupidly feeling a bit guilty as Gaius thanked him for the use of George. He was grateful for all the considerations that Arthur had been showing him lately and he said that it meant much to him. As Gaius prattled on about all the years he worked for his family, Arthur thought about the occupant upstairs one more time. He wished it was tomorrow. He wanted Merlin awake and at his side. A few weeks ago, briefly, Arthur thought he'd never again be able to …

"Sire? Are you alright?" asked Gaius.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. It's late. There's been so much to do lately. Since the storm has dwindled, we've had a chance to prepare for the worst, but nothing's been settled. We've all been working our hardest. Even my uncle has ridden out to check on some of the local villages to make sure they are prepared in case they come under its influence when the storm returns."

Arthur did not remark on Gaius's flinch. Perhaps it was to soon to speak about his uncle to the man who once was kidnapped and tortured by Morganna due to a false accusation? It was understandable. There would be some bias, but as court physician – Gaius never let personal grudges interfere with his professionalism.

They said goodnight. Arthur walked back to his own chambers feeling much better than he had in quite some time. The bottle of sleeping potion in his grasp – almost forgotten. He knew he wouldn't need it after all for now he had something to look forward to – Merlin was coming back to work. A small smile graced his lips,.

_You watch and learn something from Merlin and me, Emrys. Learn about what it takes to be a friend. Learn about loyalty. You might think Camelot needs magic but we don't. Our bonds go beyond the unexplained, our greatest strength is the power of the emotion in our hearts! _It was a grand speech to give if there were ears to hear it. _DAMN that warlock!_


	21. Chapter 21

They rode out at dawn, with the help of some heroic efforts of the servants of Camelot. Merlin had stood like a beached fish gasping for precious air as a herd of anxious asked him what was needed, what he wanted, and what he wanted to have done. The servants consulted Arthur as well, but they spent more time with Merlin. One of the kitchen maids gave everyone rolls to eat along the way, but Merlin suspected that she gave him more than the others. She winked at him and motioned to her sides as if she were wearing a jacket, miming stuffing rolls into his pockets. He thanked her, but couldn't help but think that he would have hidden some anyway since Arthur sometimes thought that stealing food was funny. When everything was packed, rolled, prepared. Baskets of food for the men. Baskets of food just for Merlin, though, was a new one.

Merlin could not help but see George's deft hand in everything to the extent that he was starting to regret holding back with his magic in his own chores all this time. If George could pull all of this off, he should have been able to cheat a bit more. He knew he should have argued the point with Gaius, but no – Merlin had to do every job but his official one – well. It would have been nice not to be treated like a complete idiot. However, George didn't have magic. He was really exceptional.

If anyone had bothered to ask the warlock he would tell them that they were traveling with an odd assortment of people, _especially_ for a quest. The word quest normally doesn't bring up the visual of a watered down hunting party, but there they were. Not only did they have the brotherhood knights: Percival, Gwaine, Elyan, and Leon. They had four other knights: Liam, Daere, and Deroch – as well as two other servants: Naf and Neb. Naf and Neb were two servants that Merlin liked and he wasn't pleased that they were coming along. They were brothers and he didn't see the sense in having them along.

Before they left, Merlin had tried to explain a little to Gaius about what had happened. However he was in a rush to get ready. He had not expected to be whisked out of bed before dawn and sent off with Arthur.

A foul temper rose in Merlin's belly and spread throughout his being. How was he supposed to know the Sidhe's customs? Who stops an attacker to ask them, _"Excuse me but I might have to let you murder me as I might prefer that to winning."_

He had no intention of replacing their king. There had to be a way out. They probably wanted more than they had said knowing how creatures of magic could be very single minded and very greedy about what they wanted. He only knew he had been attacked. He defended himself. Their king had died. Alright fine, he died in battle. Well, he died fighting Merlin. It wasn't fair that he was called "young" and "naive" - he was getting tired of those two words in the list of descriptions of his personae.

"Bunch of nonsense. So unfair. Always saddled with more and never with less. So inconsiderate," muttered Merlin unconcerned in Arthur heard him. As far as he was concerned, let the prat think that it was about him. _It would serve him right._

Arthur's horse trotted obediently next to his own and the prat seemed to be very pleased. This increased Merlin's foul mood which in turn increased Arthur's pleasure. _I would love to bind him to a chair for a day and then go fishing somewhere calm and peaceful. I could just, leave him behind without a care. But, he wasn't good at staying inside_. _ If only it was legal to chain Arthur to a chair..._ Merlin daydreamed about stealing enough freedom to spend some time with his mother. He wanted to go fishing. He wanted to lay on the grass in the sun and do nothing. He would love to know what it was like to actually not have to worry – just once.

The world weighed heavily on the warlock's shoulders when he heard the rustling of underbrush to the side, but it was just a stag. Arthur made a soft but mournful sound at the loss of an opportunity to kill a defenseless creature. Merlin had no pity for his love of blood sport and told him. He then teased him about how it rated on the manly scale to go against unarmed defenseless non-interfering cute forest creatures who run instead of attack. He pondered loudly about the skill it takes to murder a bear who won't leave her cubs and how honorable it is to leave the young behind to die without their mother.

"It's nice to be out and get some air, isn't it?" Arthur growled sarcastically at his manservant. He was glaring at Merlin now. It wasn't Merlin's fault that Arthur was a blood thirsty hunter without any self control. Merlin's body hurt. His experience with the Sidhe had left him drained. He was furious with them. He did not trust them. They had agreed to handle his little issue with the weather without killing off the Old Religion – but the price was a heavy one.

Merlin gave the blond a disapproving look and retorted, "You're the outdoors person. I'm just the girlish one, right? A bit of air and I'm supposed to be happy. If only I were as simple as you. Sure if you were equally pleased with shiny objects then maybe I could make you and indoors person."

Arthur visibly recoiled, "You got up on the wrong side of the bed. Are you feeling unwell? Perhaps you should turn around and go back?"

"I'm fine. Underpaid and even though I was denied time off to go move my mother to Camelot – I got time off for sick leave. Needless to say I'm thrilled," snapped Merlin, still cross and now feeling guilty for taking it out on Arthur. "Where are we going? What is this... quest... we're on? Surely it can't be for the storm, as you can see – it's all cleared up. I mean, well not perfectly, but no lightning – no snow. We don't have to pay it any heed."

"Nonsense Merlin. Our battle with the magical storm has just begun, or rather Emrys's battle has! You should cheer up. We are not out to kill anyone or anything today!" Merlin felt his head involuntarily shake side to side from the sheer wrongness of Arthur's crushing stupidity. There was a childishness seeping out that needed to be stoppered. There was an element of gross ego behind it that had thickened probably due to the lack of daily warlocky insult. Merlin was going to have to work overtime, "We are on a grand adventure to do something that Camelot has not done in decades!" Arthur said in the most annoying tones. The mention of his mother had made him the center of attention, but he didn't care. Arthur deserved to be seen as a mother hating monster. Merlin thought about enchanting him so that he'd break out in warts, but he refrained.

"Clear as mud," complained the secret warlock dressed in manservant's clothing, however now Merlin was at least focusing on the problem at hand. Arthur. Everything eventually came to revolve around Arthur – although Merlin would not want to have that revelation verbally in the blond's presence. There would never be anyone else ever considered by the Pendragon ever and Merlin's existence would become less than that of a hunting dog. Merlin, inwardly groaned as the rest of the men showed some interest, if only one other person other than himself or Gwaine would be less than impressed, it would be easier to collar the beast before him.

Arthur allowed himself some theatrics to draw in his audience so that the full impact of their endeavor would impact them appropriately. He rode resolutely. His chin jutted up proudly. If Merlin was the physical contact type, he would have hit him in the back of the head.

"We are off to find the '_Staff of The Stormbringer.'_ Apparently Geoffrey found a book. A druid book. When Merlin interrupted and asked if they had consulted Gaius, Arthur admitted he hadn't and told Merlin to shut up, as usual. There was some sort of prime fertilizer about the staff being a weapon that was intended to be used by Emrys. And that the prophecy said that the Once and Future King of Camelot brings this staff to Emrys to increase his magical ability. With this staff and only this staff, would Emrys be able to defeat the on coming _storm _and a revolution of acceptance would be felt by all as magic would finally kneel in submission. Tame. No longer a threat. And peace could be had by all.

Merlin wanted to read this book for himself and he wanted to read it as soon as possible.

* * *

Aithusa had forgotten and tried to fly to his big friend, Kilgharrah and this had made his leg hurt. He cried out pitifully as he only wanted to return to Kilgharrah's side, but the magical band constricted reminding him to stay put. He wailed in dragon tongue for his dragon lord to come and fix, but Emrys was not there.

He could see Kilgharrah, but he couldn't go to him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't nice. Kilgharrah was just sleeping there. He needed to get up and talk to Aithusa so that it wasn't so lonely here. There was no one to talk to in this weird place.

"_Emrys! Please come back soon."_

It was dark here and the air was humid. Nothing looked right. It was a magical place, like the floating island and Aithusa didn't like it. Darkness all around except for the magical lights of those creatures. He was pretty sure they could be eaten.

"_Kilgharrah? Emrys?"_

Aithusa sighed and curled into a tight ball of disapproving dragon. He rest his chin upon his claws and sighed. He focused obsessively on the fact that all he wanted was just to be free.

* * *

"Apparently the staff was forged when fire fell from the heavens and struck a sacred yew tree. The yew burned but some of it resisted the heat and the flame. Instead it twisted itself around the heat and encircled the flame. It's struggle saved the forest we know as the Darkling Woods. The yew was in pain and the fairy folk known as the Sidhe took it and allowed it to escape the twisted coil of wood of it's mortal form. The spirit of the yew became the gateway itself to Avalon. The wood became the staff of Emrys. The book was cryptic, but it sounds as if the staff..."

"So we're going on a mission to help a sorcerer?" asked Leon incredulously.

"Warlock. We're going on a quest to help Camelot's secret warlock, Emrys," stated Arthur whilst puffing out his chest, a bad habit of his. Merlin gaped at Arthur. When ever he felt manly or needed to feel manly, he puffed up like a bloated toad. Arthur grinned at the confused faces around him. Merlin made a mental note to _do something_ about that ego. He would also have to _do something_ about Arthur's emotion recognition ability – because the man couldn't read his audience. He could give a moving speech when it was needed, but he couldn't read a face. He couldn't read a heart. He didn't know how to deal with emotions. The man was devoid of emotional development. Arthur had courage by wagon loads, but Merlin sometimes wondered if he had taken one to many blows to the head.

"Arthur, your father is still alive and his anti-magic laws are still in effect. Doesn't this count as consorting with sorcerers?" Leon asked nervously. "You are the regent but you haven't … well changed anything."

"We've been helped by this warlock," Arthur explained, "even though my father has done great harm. We owe a debt to him. In order to stop that storm, he'll need that staff."

"_Staff of the Stormbringer_?" Elyan was frowning and trying not to look to judgmental. "So _Em_rys is going to stop the storm by bringing a storm? That doesn't sound good. Camelot could be a pile of rubble by the time this is over with!"

"Geoffrey says that the druids are odd. They'll name someone special after an ability. They more special the ability, the more special the name. Stormbringer is apparently one of Emrys's many names. He's supposed to be a savior to all people, not just magical beings – so I think we're safe, Elyan."

Merlin fidgeted in his saddle and decided to study the health of the growth of the shrubbery that decorated the sides of the path. There was a bit of blight this year and that was concerning. _Perhaps it was like the unicorn's curse brought on by how miserly the kingdom was?_ Mused Merlin as he pondered the possibility of druid writings not being as cryptic as dragon sayings. Suddenly Arthur was an expert in magical weaponry? He knew the history of a particular bad ass weapon? Merlin really did not like the sound of all of this.

"What's the matter? Are you sore already? To used to laying around in bed wrapped in bandages being waited on hand and foot?" Arthur's smile was positively wicked. He enjoyed laying it on thick and thick was what he was being. Merlin had a simple education – or so he thought. His mother had taught him until Gaius had taken him in and then Gaius took up his education. However Arthur was supposed to have had _the best tutors in the world_.

"Merlin? I asked if you were sore," Arthur was started to sound sincerely concerned.

Merlin growled, "You go through it next time and see how you fair, okay? Mind your business, dollophead. If I'm uncomfortable, I'll tell you and make a request of you that we should rest. However you're far to fat headed and inconsiderate to consider requests for servants, but I'm plucky enough to attempt it anyway."

Arthur enjoyed that and went on to mock the word _plucky_. He enjoyed anything that he could use to associate Merlin to chickens.

They always make claims, these royals, that this or that is the best in the world – however it was times like this that made Merlin wonder about the the measuring stick. Arthur may have had the best tutors in the world but if his world was the size of Camelot – then that explains a lot. _The world, _Merlin decided is not an accurate description at all as he did not have a map of the whole thing. He had not met most of it. He had not tasted most of the food nor listened to its music. Arthur might be able to say, "best in the world" and mean it – but Merlin knew better. It wasn't Merlin's goal to be the best in the world anyway, that was far to small of a goal. He wanted Arthur to be the best of all them all, of all times. Anywhere. Everywhere. _ In the world,_ of the here and now of this royal – was not good enough. It would never be good enough – not for the hell he'd been living to pay for it all.

Arthur seemed to really enjoy the plucky word a bit to much even if Merlin was as cheerful as a barren woman drown and then bury other women's infants in her resolute tears, but it really wasn't in Merlin's nature to want to kill the happiness of others. It was just that Arthur was being thick and he was enjoying being thick. His emotions were hard enough to coax about, they might as well have been the product of a painful labor after nine months of a nurturing development. However in Arthur's case, his emotions were sometimes born with collapsed skulls or just dead. It was rare that Merlin could get something alive and healthy to come out of him.

"Arthur, I hate to bring this up since you're so happy with your new word to play with," Merlin said spitefully knowing full well he had a defective and dying infant by the ankle by the riverside, but in all honesty _plucky _was going to have to go. Merlin's horse snuffled and the warlock patted the chestnut's shoulder affectionately before continuing, "but don't you think you're focusing on something you have no business messing with? You know nothing about magic and suddenly you're taking advice from Geoffrey, who is also no expert on magic, and running off to do something for a warlock? Shouldn't you be focusing on something that matters like your expanding midriff? How I'm going to get to move my mother here in winter? Cause that's something you should worry about. If I'm plagued with unhappiness I might take ill again and then you'll have George to tend to you every day. Oh or what about the biggest issue? Love!"

That had done it. The infant was gone. Released into the water before it had a chance to live. Merlin probably should have let plucky live a little, but Arthur could be annoying to the point of risking retribution. It was better to send plucky off this way. Kinder. It was better to have plucky die off young before Arthur loved it to much.

"Merlin, I do care for you, but I'm not in love with you," teased the prat.

"No dummy, not me. Of course you don't love me," snapped the warlock impatiently. "Gwen."

"Don't ever mention her again. I've told you this. I swear I'll banish you," threatened the now puffed up prat.

Killing off Arthur's underdeveloped malformed ideas, unhealthy emotions, bad habits, personality traits, and obsessions was easier than reviving the noble feeling of love that had been stained by Morganna's magic. Arthur's stupid pride, that was going to be the next babe to toss into the river.

"Banishment. Not that for a moment will I pretend that you can't banish me or wouldn't banish me, but would you really want to banish me – just for talking?" pouted Merlin.

"I'd be banishing you for disobeying me!"

"I am disobeying you all the time, Sire. Loyally, of course. I have your best interests at heart. You do know that, don't you? How many times have I told you not to do something because it is a bad idea and I'm proven right? How many times have I warned you about someone and I'm right? How many times have I told you what you should do and I'm right? How many times have I had to explain to you what it is you need to do because to do anything else would be my definition of mad? You yell at me. You throw things at me. You've fired me. I've gone to the stocks for you and because of you. I've been punched. Poisoned. Pelted with fruit. I've been yelled at. Called an idiot. I've been mocked. Humiliated. I've lost sleep. I'm underpaid. Overworked. Under appreciated. And let me remind you of something, Arthur Pendragon, I am not even technically _your_ subject. I'm from another kingdom. I'm just an employee if I'm not your friend. So all of this considered, Arthur, the very least of what I have is the ability to think. The only way I can share that is to speak my mind. If you're going to throw me out of the kingdom I don't even belong to in the first place – well then so be it. "

"..."

"One more thing. I'm not your lucky charm. I'm not like a special pair of boots you can't ride into battle without. I'm a person. Yes, I look after you. Yes, I watch out for you. It is because of you I'm learning medicine. It is because of you that I'm here on my sore bottom. It is because of you that I do the things that I do. It is because of you and it is _for_ you. Your feeling slighted because Lancelot came back from the dead. He was dead. I saw him go through the veil. He came back. That suggests magic. Morganna tore the veil. I think Morganna brought Lancelot back as a shade. I think Lancelot's shade was used against you to make you unhappy. That said, if you allow this to remain – Morganna wins this little battle. There. I said it and I didn't even say her _name_."

"..."

"Am I banished?"

"..."

"I didn't think so, Sire."

Merlin was risking everything being so mouthy in front of other servants and in front of knights, but he didn't care. Arthur was being careless. He needed a bit of a mental slap down. Arthur had no idea how much others did for for his well being. He didn't even bother to ask. It might be his noble birth right to be given the royal treatment, but he should have some humility. He should have some obligation to honor his position that chance afforded to him. To be a leader meant work and dedication. Arthur did not have the luxury of being able to swagger like Gwaine at the pub, he would never be able to be that relaxed or sure of himself. He had to fight for his happiness. He had to assume there were plots. He had to second guess his cup at dinner.

Arthur simply could not have it his way – just by saying how things should be – without a fight. He wasn't the one with magic. He was the one with the sword. The one with the magic was the one who got to say things into being.

Merlin glared at Arthur even though the challenge was over realizing yet another one of Arthur's infantile and childish ways had been tossed into the river.

While Arthur and the knights ate stew, Merlin munched his way through a bowl of roasted grain and dried fruit compliments of George, of course. He could feel Arthur's eyes on him. All day long, Arthur had stared at him quite rudely. It bothered him. He felt like some sort of exotic bird. He wanted to transform and wander, but instead he used his vision to check the area. There were some vagrants living in the woods, but they didn't seem to be bandits. They were more like smugglers moving through the area – unlikely to attempt an ambush.

Arthur had declared Merlin exempt from guard duty. Arthur then commanded that his servant should sleep so even though Merlin was not tired, wanted to stay up and listen to everyone's stories – he found himself being rolling out his bedroll. He paused after he unrolled it. It was a new bedroll. It was gray wool, but it was soft and thick. George had even rolled a slim rolled padded pad made of soft hide stuffed sparsely with beaten hay as insulation against the cold earth. Merlin felt a twinge of gratitude mixed liberally with a good portion of guilt. Usually he cheated with an enchantment here and there to make up for the equipment that he lacked, but George... that George.

He was as good as being a servant as Merlin was at magic.

Lately there was never any time for screaming detailed work, such as talking to George. However talking to George was a something that was going to have to happen as soon as Merlin found the time and the privacy. The man was going to be the death of him. These sort of things were expensive and if Merlin was going to carry around extras, they were supposed to be for Arthur – not for himself.

"What's that?"

Merlin turned to see the prat in question curiously looking at his discovery. "I wasn't the one who packed any of the gear. This isn't my bedroll and this ground pad.. isn't mind either. You should use it, Sire. Since you're comfort is more important. I grew up sleeping on the ground. I'm used to it."

"No, you use it Merlin. You're just skin and bones after all. Not enough padding on you. You'll probably still bruise if there was a stone under a thousand of those. You should try eating some meat!"

"Please, Sire? I wouldn't feel right about it. I'm not going to use it even if you don't."

Arthur glanced around and then put an arm around Merlin's shoulders in an imitation of Gwaine, "Merlin, don't embarrass me. If my men see me sleeping on that thing. That's the sort of thing that girls use for camping. I don't care if you use it, but I cannot. Gwaine calls me 'princess' as it is – can you imagine if I slept on a girl's camp pad?"

It wasn't a matter of luxury, it was coddling – again. Compared to a girl or be rugged and get a bad night's sleep? Merlin rather be compared to a girl. He wasn't constantly having to prove his ruggedness. He learned long ago that strength was really about making sure that no one knew that he was the most powerful man in the room.

He had only intended to watch the stars, but sleep came to claim him without permission. He was far more exhausted than he had realized. The other two servants had rolled out their bedrolls and slept close to Merlin. While Merlin slept, the knights passed a flask provided by Sir Gwaine, of course, and told stories. They laughed, but more softly then usual. No one missed the unified glances at the sleeping manservant. Those who had seen him struck by lightning would never forget what he had looked like – and those who had heard the story would never forget the description. Yet, somehow, the boy was there sleeping – peacefully and very much whole – very much alive.

Fireflies preferred grasses and places by water, but the knights watched in amazement as a handful of fireflies danced over the camp. They centered their flight around Merlin as he slept unaware of the spectacle.

"There are some who say that when something like this happens," Percival said quietly as he pointed at the darting lights mixing with airborne embers of the campfire. It was a little creepy seeing the sparks erupt from the fire whiz by the darting glowing bodies. Percival quietly spoke on, "that this is a sign of .. well... you know. I think they might be called Fay or Sidhe, you know _The Mound People_?"

That put Arthur on alert. Sidhe sounded like magical creatures. Magical creatures by nature cannot be trusted or counted on due to capricious natures. Geoffrey told him to be wary of signs.

* * *

Dead center of the Darkling Woods, a place that they had all passed before time and time again. It was a path in the wood where another path intersected it. The ancient trees were gnarled and twisted. The air hung a feeling of betrayal and promises of blood. There was magic here. There was old magic threaded in the very soil at their feet, but it wasn't holy. It wasn't sacred. It was just wild. The forest was lush and green. It thrived with life and hid many deaths. It hid secrets. It was in these woods where Merlin secreted himself to speak to the dragon on many occasions – far from the prying eyes of Camelot's guards – not that they see much. However on the off chance that Arthur might hire one that wasn't blind, Merlin had to be wary. These woods were a place where many died, magical or not, and their passing attracted the attention of the Old Religion. Each death breathed a bit more focus into that until the plants themselves were laced with traces of magic. It was enough to put Merlin on edge. He was never fond of these woods.

Arthur stood in the center and instructed the men to dig a big letter _E_. Merlin watched in amusement as the knights went to work as the servants stood handing them water and patting them down with cloths. It was a thinly veiled attempt to keep him from doing anything physical and while he appreciated it – he still hated being coddled. As the letter took shaped – the sight of it made Merlin flinch. It looked a lot like a big letter _M_ to him – part of him thought this was the most ridiculous quest they had ever gone on and part of him was hoping he wasn't summoned in the middle of a crossroad to reveal to Arthur his most precious secret.

"Arthur what are we..."

"Doing?" Arthur took great pleasure in explaining what ever it was he thought he was doing to Leon. He draped an arm over the knight's shoulders and started explaining himself. Leon looked into his eyes with respect and admiration – nodding when ever Arthur paused. It was all well intended but Geoffrey's instructions were likely to fail. Sure, there was some knowledge in that library, but when it came to magic – these people had no idea what they were doing. Merlin watched as Arthur's opinion of himself grew as Leon fed his ego.

_Smugness wasn't a royal right_, in Merlin's opinion. _No one should have that right – smugness should be earned by greatness and carving an initial into the earth like a lover wasn't great. One more flaw to correct._ This action shouldn't do anything at all. The only thing that standing in the middle of the Darkling Woods at a crossroads would be to attract any and every magical being and creature in the vicinity. They were asking for trouble.

Merlin sulked – withdrawing into himself. It was likely that somehow they were going to do something stupid and he was going to have to fix everything once again with magic and the sword would get all the credit. Once again, Merlin was going to have to chase away the monsters so that Arthur could sleep at night. Once again, Merlin was going to have to figure out how to make things acceptable for the Pendragon so that Camelot could live just one more day before the next threat to Arthur named itself.

"Merlin. Are you alright?" asked the handsome knight, Sir Gwaine, with the customary grin on his neglected chin. Merlin wondered if he would still be so handsome clean shaven. The rugged would disappear and would the noble that Gwaine tries to hard to hide – appear? Merlin often wondered about that and as the thoughts flickered through, a blush crept over his face. Merlin was supposed to be dicing root vegetables for stew, but he had been watching Arthur holding a knife in one hand and a carrot held limply in the other.

"Merlin?"

"Gwaine!" Merlin rolled his eyes dramatically as he attacked the root vegetables for another pot of stew to feed the endlessly empty stomachs around him. Merlin looked up into the honest eyes of his friend and before he could counter it, his tight control of his tongue failed as he verbally unleashed his troubles, "I'm alright. I'm just anxious. I have no idea what he's doing. What ever he's doing is a waste of time, if you ask me. He's annoying me with all of this. We should be at the castle. We don't have to be here. He doesn't know a thing about.. y'know."

Gwaine nodded sympathetically.

"And, I've got enough of my plate right now," Merlin grumpily stated as he dumped the diced carrots into the cooking pot and added celery stalks onto his chopping plate. The thin polished brass plate was scratched but clean. Merlin hated it. He had no reason to hate it, he just did. He rather cut on wood table or a wooden board. Using a knife to slice vegetables on a metal plate just ruined the blade that much faster. It just felt wrong. Everything about camping felt wrong. "Apparently I have made a few – err _mistakes_. Well at the time they weren't mistakes. I mean I met my objective, which was to keep the prat alive."

Gwaine leaned closer, "What do you mean?"

Merlin's eyes darted around as he took in his surroundings carefully. His stormy blue eyes taking in every form of every figure around them and then some. Every leaf, rock, and twig – seemed to hold some significance to him now. Gwaine saw Merlin glance at the inorganic as much as the unnecessary and organic non human matter around them as if ears were everywhere and on everything. Merlin shook his head unhappily and angrily. He had noticed something. The knife in his hand once again was ignored and a plate of half diced celery lay forgotten as he stood and turned in a circle – nervously.

"There are things I need to do at Camelot. Now. For my _kin. _ To help them. And now, suddenly, Arthur is dragging us off camping? Oh look at him! What is he doing?" Merlin asked Gwaine softly though he wasn't expecting an answer. "We're at a crossroad. _Nothing good can come at lingering at a crossroad. _ I should have looked it up. I needed to look it up. No one told me about this stupid quest. Think. I have to think."

A sheen of sweat glistened, despite the sunless afternoon, over Merlin's skin. He could feel the world graying out as Arthur and the knights dug the _E or was it an M?_ He couldn't tell anymore. Oh gods, what was happening? Merlin stepped away from the stew pot. One of the servants, _Naf? Or was it Neb?_ Moved to his spot and started working on the stew for him. _ Gwaine. Where was Gwaine? Why was everyone moving so weirdly?_ Merlin couldn't hear anyone properly anymore. He moved closer to Arthur, but he moved slowly so that he wouldn't draw attention to himself. _Was anything watching? __Was he noticed? _

He felt bile rise to the back of his throat, but he swallowed it.

There was a glimmer flitting off to the side. A Sidhe.

"_Go away,"_ he mentally growled. _"I have not summoned you." _

"_We protect what is ours. You dare use us without compensation? Why are you here? You are not honoring the terms of our agreement," _accused a voice he had no name other than Sidhe.

"_I will keep my end of the bargain. I made a promise. You have my word, and you gave your word that you would not interfere with my affairs concerning Arthur. You need to take care of the storm. I need to take care of some things to ensure Arthur is safe and then – and only then I will come to you," _assured Merlin silently and impatiently, _"but if you reveal me – I will be very cross and I will take it out on you. You will then regret ever knowing my name."_

For the first time in his life Merlin was grateful for the pettiness of Arthur, he would have a great deal of prattishness to reference if the Sidhe got out of line. The greediness of the Sidhe was extraordinary. They would go through great lengths to advance their own legend.

"_You must fulfill your promise!" _exclaimed the Sidhe – it's voice buzzing in Merlin's head.

"_LEAVE! You are breaking our promise. If you want me, you will have to honor our agreement. If you will not leave you will release my dragons at once and never return to me again," _spat Merlin viciously in his mind. He could sense the Sidhe vacating the area quickly. They knew they were pushing their luck.

And then in slow motion, Elyan's shovel struck for the last time and lifted the last amount of dirt out of the initial. The knights had carved a six inch deep letter into the ground that was four feet long and 3 feet wide. It was not the best looking letter, but Arthur looked pleased. Merlin's heart raced as he took his place to stand next to his friend.

The world felt as tilted as it did as right before he got struck by lightning. Merlin's body felt charged with power and he inwardly struggled to calm himself. He did not need any accidental discharges of magic. He was already upset.

Someone said his name, but he couldn't turn his head. He was stuck – he couldn't move very well. Arthur was puffing up stupidly and the knights were drawing their swords. There were figures advancing from each direction and there they were at the center standing stupidly at the carved letter. Merlin promised Geoffrey a day of diarrhea for his troubles.

Then Arthur put everything into perspective and Merlin felt himself relax just a little as finally there was a name to put behind this mess, "Morganna."


	22. Chapter 22

_Morganna._

Arthur bristled like a golden bear protecting young cubs. He bared his teeth and snarled at the woman he had once considered family, now she was an enemy. The childhood they shared mattered not at all. Her heart was filled with bitterness and hatred. She had no compassion. She did not value mercy. She did not see all of Uther's flaws now, she only saw as much as he chose the wrong side. She did not see how wrong ruthlessness was or how much it hurt the innocent. She was vicious and she was advancing with her men, marked with the Pendragon symbol but it was silver on black. She perverted everything she touched.

"Hello Arthur." Morganna's voice was like music falling out of the mouth of a corpse. It was wrong. She looked horrible. She was pale and gaunt. Arthur couldn't help it. He looked at her from her feet to her face, taking in the details of every pulled thread of the forsaken rag she had donned in lieu of a gown. It was black..ish? It was definitely many shades of black. She was filthy. Smudges of something or other on her face and hands. Perhaps it was from the dress or perhaps her dress wasn't black, maybe she was darkening it with some sort of personal soiling. Arthur's nose wrinkled even though he couldn't smell her, his imagination was filling in what hadn't drifted to him on the air – yet.

"Morganna!" Arthur greeted the woman with noticeable disappointment hoping that it might mean something to her. It was to late to go back. It was to late to undo the damage. They could never live together under the same roof and pretend to care about each other as if nothing happened. At the very least, he could banish her to a foreign land or arrange a marriage for her with some noble in a distant land – a very distant land – a very very very distant land. He risked a question, "Let me guess. You're after the staff as well?"

He wanted it to sound clever, but it had quite the opposite reception.

Off to the side, Merlin brought a hand to his face and shook his head lightly as Morganna erupted into a womanly giggle of delight, even a little bit of color came to her lips – but not much. Arthur colored a little. He didn't think it sounded that far fetched after all Geoffrey had given him the instructions! Merlin coughed and Arthur snapped his head so quickly to look in his direction that his muscles screamed in protest. Merlin widened at his eyes and cleared his throat again, obviously trying not to laugh. _Even Merlin is laughing! _ _It wasn't that ridiculous!_

Merlin and the servants were in the center of their group. Morganna's men outnumbered them four to one. The situation was far from ideal.

"I forgot how funny you are!" Morganna giggled a bit more. Her once voluptuous figure was wasted as if she had fed her hatred with it – Arthur noticed how painfully boney her hands were getting. She probaby hadn't had a decent meal in a long time. The girlish laughter did not fit her visage and it made him a little sick to hear it, she calmed herself eventually. She cleared her throat before turning her tone into one that would be used when addressing a small and uneducated child, "No, Arthur. Believe it or not, someone like me can have someone take a book out of your precious Camelot. I then added pages to the precious book. Then I had the book put back where it was – but not without giving dear Geoffrey a reason to rediscover a book he had long forgotten."

The two extra servants were back to back and shivering in fear. The knights all had their swords drawn and were standing at the ready waiting for commands. Merlin was doing his normal – stand at Arthur's side around a foot and a half and one half step away from the elbow. His manservant's breathing was normal. In Arthur's peripheral vision, he saw Merlin as he always was – casually unimpressed with the world around him when something extraordinary was going on. However if it was something ordinary, Merlin tended to lapse into rapt attention and amazement. He never reacted as expected. Morganna's announcement of a traitor in the castle hadn't phased him at all. Others gasped. Some shifted. Merlin might as well have yawned and then gone off to his bedroll for an afternoon nap for all the surprised and shocked he was for goodness sake.

"I wish we could just pretend you were on your way to visit your father's grave," Arthur said sadly.

Morganna flinched. Her pale cracked lips peeled painfully back from her teeth in a snarl, "That is something I've been trying to arrange! Don't you worry, Arthur. You'll be dead soon. Nothing that I do to Uther will hurt you at all. I'll kill him, but first I'll show him your head on a pike! And the best part is, Emrys can't save you. He's off dealing with the storm of his own creation!"

The knights and servants were getting uncomfortable with their curiosity. A slight breeze swept up enough of the red capes to make them flicker like red flames surrounded by the black of Morganna's men.

"Thanks to that, I get a free shot at...Merlin would you mind not yawning? Has the prospect of dying by my hand not sunk in yet or is dying preferable to a life of mucking out Arthur's stables?" shrieked Morganna. Incredulity etched her features into an even more grotesque masque.

The greens of the forest were so damp and calming. It was a beautiful place. It was a shame to have to sully it with blood, Arthur's only consultation would be that the dead would become worm food and thus spur on more luxurious growth. The lives ended today would not go to waste, however he refused to give over one of his subject's precious lives to Morganna. The odds were in her favor.

Arthur was weighing his sword in his hand, the balance was perfect. He was ready, and... why was Merlin laughing?

"Merlin would you mind being serious?" asked Morganna while Arthur asked at the same time,"Merlin could you be serious, please?" Which needless to say spurred what they thought to be a country bumpkin into a good old belly laugh.

The two other servants were pale and held onto each other for dear life, shaking looking at Merlin in horror. The knights, well, they were used to the strange manservant by now. Gwaine beheld the thin man with some kind of glimmering adoration. Arthur was sickened by it, actually. He wanted to warn the knight against swooning in front of the enemy, but his tongue was frozen in his mouth. Merlin's face was streaked with mirth born tears that he couldn't control. One thin, boney finger rose and pointed at Morganna.

"You," he said with difficulty, "actually think that one of your cheap tricks is going to work? I never knew how funny you could be, Morganna. If you were still, I dunno, clean, it might even be a charming characteristic," and with that Merlin lost his ability to speak again as he doubled up in his amusement. He stood and hopped up and down and clapped his hands, "She thinks she's clever."

And with that Morganna attacked, but she did not attack Arthur. She attacked Merlin. Merlin dodged, but her attack was shielded from hitting anything anyway. A Sidhe buzzed angrily, wordlessly near the forest's edge – zipping to and fro. Her men tried to advance, but they slammed into an invisible wall. She shrieked. Merlin stood and turned. Arthur and his men also looked for the source of magic.

_Emrys_, thought Arthur.

"Show yourself Emrys!" screamed Morganna.

Merlin stood stock still, his laughter had ceased. His pale skin practically glowed in the against the dark green backdrop of the forest beyond him. Arthur wanted to freeze time and remove everyone but Merlin in his brown, red, and blue. He wanted to get the court portrait artist and have Merlin's anger captured. He wanted it. He wanted proof that even kind-hearted Merlin could feel rage, but where was it directed? At Emrys? Was Merlin afraid enough of Emrys to want to do battle with the warlock? There had to be some anger, he had been severely hurt by magic recently. Merlin quivered like a deer in range of a crossbow and it was ached to be preserved. Arthur wanted it for evidence and he wanted it because – it was beautiful. So Merlin-like, to be the unexpected reaction. It was as if his docile Merlin had turned into some kind of avenging angel. It was silly. Merlin was no warrior nor did he have any fighting skills. However to see the fighting spirit in a boy who was so humble, emboldened Arthur himself. It was inspiring. That was what Merlin was to him, an inspiration. He had seen many emotions on Merlin's face before, but Arthur had never seen him so angry. He was glaring at... a firefly. Arthur shook out of his reverie. This wasn't the time to focus on a farm boy's oddities, he lunged sword tip first at Morganna's throat and screamed, "Charge!"

All hell broke loose.

Morganna refocused her anger on Merlin – who had the audacity to snipe at her, "Oh grow up, Morganna. Can't you see I have more important things to deal with than you? Why don't you comb your hair? Have you forgotten how or do you need a servant to do it? What is it with you nobles? You can't do something as simple as dress yourselves? Or comb your hair? Do you still bathe? I doubt it. You're filthy. Go clean up. I really do have more important and pressing business to deal with."

Morganna mouth made a perfect "O" as her jaw dropped in complete astonishment at Merlin's lack of fear.

Arthur lunged at Morganna time and time again to be thrown back into the fight. He'd have to slash his way through his opponent who then just happened to either trip or sneeze – one lost his trousers. And then Arthur would once again launch himself at Morganna who was trying to fry Merlin who seemed to be dancing out of harms way by weaving through trees as he spoke in stern tones. Morganna was shrieking her spells. She had started to pant.

Her men weren't winning, however they weren't winning either.

Trees that Morganna's spells hit were shaken. Some had splintery looking gashes in them. Merlin had not ceased speaking though. To Arthur's amazement, Merlin's tone was getting colder and more annoyed. Arthur wanted him to stop it. He didn't want Merlin to take on Morganna. She was to dangerous. It was a nice gesture to try to lure her focus onto himself, but Morganna was just to powerful. She was insane. She was going to kill him. Merlin didn't stand a change at this point. He had nothing to prove to Arthur. Arthur knew already that Merlin was the most loyal and brave servant in all the realm. He was a friend. He was a commoner but his heart was so noble. He had done so much for Arthur.

Suddenly Arthur regretted threatening him with banishment. He promised himself that he wold do as Merlin requested and talk to him about finding a way to forgive Gwen.

If Merlin could face Morganna, then he could face his own stupid pride.

The air was getting thick. Humid. It smelled sweet. Merlin was swearing, he was telling off Morganna. Arthur wasn't sure if she needed informing that she was being misguided by her fears and that she had abandonment issues – what ever that meant.

"When I met you, I thought you were a friend. I thought you were brave, but you are more motivated by fear than you would like to admit. In fact, you're more motivated by fear than Uther is!" yelled Merlin who dodged another volley of energy as he swatted at a fire fly. Actually, there was a swarm of fireflies surrounding Merlin now."So what are you doing, Morganna? Do you think what you are doing are the acts of a good person? Do you?"

Arthur stopped trying to attack Morganna as he considered those words. He was going to have to talk to Merlin about his wisdom of speaking to an enemy about his father in that way. He placed a hand on his hip. An enemy swordsman swung at his head and he parried the blow easily. He ran the man through the mid drift and continued to listen to Merlin.

"You could have been free of all of this, Morganna. Your biggest worry or concern should be what to wear, but no you just had to be motivated by your own fear – not anger. No, Morganna, this is not deserved. This is fear and it is pathetic, because you have gone to far," Merlin kept going, but if her rage kept increasing all it would take would be one stumble. One Merlin-like boot catching a stone, there was the Merlin wobbly lost balance despite the fact the ground was even, and maybe a Merlin should be running for his life – but hey there's something more interesting over there – Arthur's mind's eye was filling with dreadful scenarios even as the battle raged around him.

Merlin's speech was … confusing. he more he spoke the more furious Morganna became. She told him to die. She cursed at him. She began to cry. Her fury stirred up wind and shook the very ground beneath Arthur's feet. It was becoming more and more dangerous to be near her. It was a wonder that Merlin kept speaking. The more he spoke, the more insulting his tone became. He was speaking down to her as if she were a mere child to him. It was absurd.

In the distance he saw cloaks, _were those druids? Were they here to help or to hinder? Or were they here to merely watch? Did this have something to do with Emrys? Emrys._

"I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!" yelled the farm boy turned manservant violently batting away fireflies as he stumbled to a halt. Arthur's heart froze as did his feet. The world was moving in slow motion. Morganna raised her hand. Her pale mouth opened, cracked lips spoke ancient terrifying words. Power arched in the form of light from her fingertips and it moved sinisterly snake-like towards Merlin who had stopped dodging. He had become distracted during a battle when his life was at risk. Arthur wanted to move between the spell and Merlin, but no human could move that fast.

No human could have saved Merlin, but Merlin was saved nonetheless. He was thrown back by an invisible force – his frail body hit a tree trunk heavily despite how his light build. Arthur's attention once again was peeled away from his manservant's plight by enemy knights who slashed at him mercilessly. He took his frustrations out on them. He wanted to stop this. The fight was lasting to long, he had to find a way to win. He wasn't leading the battle – he had been watching one. Arthur was losing this one. If he lost this, everyone would suffer. _Merlin was right, there was the taint of Uther's hatred all over Morganna. It wasn't for magic – it was for everything good!_

Arthur slit the belly of the man before him and pushed him away with his boot as a huge shadow passed over head. There wasn't any sun today. It had been overcast for a long time. It wasn't possible to see such a shadow, but yet... Arthur looked up. It was the last thing he wanted to see. Above him in all of it's majesty was the ancient great dragon itself flying in a tight circle. It rumbled deeply in its throat, a soft but menacing growl.

The ground beneath his feet seemed to pulse with life.

"You broke your word. We no longer had to remain. Do you think your puny prison could hold us?" spoke the dragon. Arthur shook. _The dragon … spoke? _ He couldn't handle Morganna and the dragon. Even if he had the full use of his army, he couldn't take both. One, maybe. Both, was impossible. Not without Emrys – if Emrys actually was his guardian angel as the druids claimed. He felt an inkling of doubt as the dragon flapped it's giant reptilian wings. _I thought I killed it. Figures, Merlin can't even tell when a dragon is dead. Never take the word of a farm boy, he just wouldn't know._

Gwaine stepped in and saved his life. Arthur came close to having the back of his skull introduced to an enemy mace.

"You okay there, Princess?" the question came out punctuated with pants, but true to form – the grin flashed. The roguish glint in his eyes was still there. Merlin's knight still had some fight left in him, although to be fair – Gwaine preferred the impossible. He liked the "no chance of winning" scenarios the best and with that in mind – Arthur deflated a little more.

_Even if he were here, even Emrys could not do anything about this. We're doomed_.

Merlin was sitting at the base of the tree massaging the back of his head, complaining as only he could. He was sourly rambling without an audience while Morganna had taken up swatting at fireflies. She had gone mad. She was absolutely starkers. Her obsession with Merlin had reached a new height if she was going to join him in insect battering. Arthur shook his head.

"Princess?" called Gwaine, "You can keep shaking that head of yours if you like, but adding movement doesn't make it more or less of a target. You're going to lose it if you don't start paying attention and defending yourself."

The dragon landed and with its mighty tail swept away half of Morganna's men into the brush. Despite the bulk of the creature, it then turned as quick as a flash and then breathed flame over the screaming men. One black and silver garbed knight slashed at the creature to be batted to the flame. Arthur cried out for his knights to back off. There was no reason to antagonize the dragon. It had not attacked Camelot in some time and he did not want to remind the creature that it had a reason to hold them in ill regard.

_He just wanted to grab Merlin and go home. If Emrys was there, couldn't he help them? Wouldn't he know?_

Arthur looked for Emrys, but he couldn't find him. Someone was casting magic. The druids were keeping their distance, however they were engaged with their own troubles. A group of serkets had been disturbed and had descended upon the druids who were trying to drive the magical beasts back. The dragon took out six more of Morganna's men, but the numbers did not make sense. Her men should have been defeated by now. Arthur watched in horror as the dragon's breath turned her knights to ash only more would form from the very earth from beneath their feet. She was cheating! They weren't even human! No wonder Gwaine was breathless and complaining that Arthur wasn't really fighting – this wasn't a fight. They needed to retreat.

Arthur had known it already though, but he couldn't call out the order. He couldn't have his men make a break for it while Merlin was taking the full brunt of Morganna's fury. It was a miracle that the foolish farm boy turned manservant had lasted this long already.

"Merlin," choked Arthur.

"Princess," hissed Gwaine, in full combat. The enemy had once again reached them despite the dragon picking them off one by one. It had not escaped Arthur's attention that the dragon had not attacked any of his men – yet.

Arthur's lip quivered. He looked over his shoulder. He could hear Merlin's waspish tone of voice as he berated Morganna. _Still at it. The brave fool_. Arthur crossed swords with yet another opponent. The inside of his gloves were slippery from sweat. His arms were getting tired. His leg muscles were starting to feel rubbery. He was fatiguing. It wouldn't be long before they would begin to fall and then Merlin's attempt would mean – nothing.

He couldn't bare to see it. _"… don't look. He will not be the first to give his life for you."_

_There was so many things wrong with Uther's advice. So many things and there wasn't any time to correct any of it!_ Tears streamed down Arthur's face. He made to decapitate his enemy, but the dragon... stepped on it. Arthur swallowed. He was face to face with the legendary beast who – smiled at him before turning on the next knight of Morganna's.

_It must be listening to Emrys. Emrys. Heaven have mercy_._ Emrys is here!_

"Retreat!" Arthur yelled, hope growing in his heart.

Merlin was still dodging Morganna, tutting her efforts. Criticizing her aim, her posture not being lady-like anymore, and how she should really consider wearing appropriate footwear for the woods if she was planning on battling in the woods. Arthur wondered if he had heard the command to retreat at all, because he hadn't attempted to escape. Merlin was talking about the virtues of boots. The benefits of good footwear was worth an extra coin or two. Now that Morganna was an outlaw and a commoner – Arthur flinched at the curse words that had inspired from her.

He should have been running away and Merlin should have been running with him. Instead he ran a ways and stopped, his men scattered, but nearby – not leaving his side.

"MERLIN!" he cried out. He lunged towards his friend, but Leon had a hold of his arm to prevent him from actually dragging Merlin away from Morganna – as if Arthur could prevent her from following. _If the dragon would help? _Arthur yelled again, "Retreat! Come on!" He didn't want to say l_et the dragon eat her _even if it was what he was hoping what would happen. The dragon was still in full battle mode. The fireflies were still dancing. There was still invisible forces making both Merlin and Morganna bounce backward and side to side. There was the druids fighting serkets. There was a white bat that had just shown up that was spitting fire at the fireflies. Clouds were forming over head, the weather was threatening to turn for the worst. Morganna's men seemed to be conjured from mud. He swore he saw a unicorn trying to avoid the serkets, but he couldn't be certain from this distance. He opened his mouth and cried out again, "MERLIN!"

"You slippery bastard! If I can't hurt you, I'll do the next best thing. In fact, this might hurt you worse than actually killing you!" and then Morganna turned and stretched her arm towards Arthur her palm out. Ancient words slipped out of her cracked mouth and Merlin screamed out a no that could have split the heavens. And somehow he went from standing from hundreds of yards on the opposite side of Morganna to between Arthur and Morganna's spell with his arms stretched out protectively.

Merlin took the hit.

Merlin took the spell square in the chest. It lifted him and then slammed in with a mighty force into the ground. For a brief moment, when Merlin was spread eagle suspended in air before he crumpled into an inhuman position. Arthur's head was shaking so badly, he wanted to reject this as reality. The impact displaced earth, sending up a cloud of leaf and soil.

Arthur fell to his knees. _ Emrys...you bastard!_

Morganna let out a brief bark of laughter, but she was interrupted by a frenzied dragon. It's one thing to face a vengeful dragon. Another to face a fighting dragon. However one that has tipped over into madness. The great dragon began roaring and writhing – not unlike the way Morganna had when Morgause had been struck down when the Cup of Life had fallen. Fireflies covered the dragons body, which only seemed to push the creature further.

* * *

_Emrys. You bastard! How could you use Merlin as a shield? How dare you? Merlin..._

Arthur rode with one arm around Merlin's torso, the thin servant's back pressed against his chest. The pale forehead rest smoothly against his throat was reassuring. With brief glances, he could see for himself that Merlin was awake and alive.

_twitch_

They had not lost one man and that in itself was a miracle. Behind them a magic battle roared on, literally. Arthur did not care if he had abandoned Emrys to deal with Morganna on his own. He did not care if he had left behind a rampaging dragon. He did not care if the serkets were flooding through the forests. He did not even care if the druids were losing, if they had known of the trap – they should have warned him. They had taken the initiative to open their tree hugging mouths before – he knew they had it in them!

_twitch_

Something white made him jump in his saddle. He wanted to draw his sword, but he could not release his hold on Merlin. The knights around him crashed into battle mode in a single moment, well – all but Gwaine.

"Wait a moment!" an exhausted and bloodied Gwaine raised his sword, but in defiance as a small white dragonet landed on Merlin's lap and stretched against his form Merlin, speechless, lifted an arm and the creature nuzzled underneath as if craving the touch. Merlin sweetly rubbed a thumb against the creature's cheekbone. The boy didn't have a cowardly bone in his body. The creature let out a soft squawk and then flew off as nonchalantly as it had come.

_twitch twitch _

_Emrys..._


	23. Chapter 23

Traveling back towards Camelot was a nightmare and Gwaine was starting to feel whoozey. It wasn't from a battle wound – it was from the blood that was pounding in his skull after watching his best mate sacrifice his body to one of Morganna's furious spells. Merlin was the very essence of loyalty. Gwaine was filled with pride from being in the boy's good graces and yet – it hurt to watch. It hurt to watch someone so noble and so selfless. It hurt not being able to take the blow for him. It hurt not to be able to even to share the pain.

It was a small comfort to know that Merlin actually had magic. If Gwaine hadn't known, there would have been no way that he would have allowed Merlin to continually tease Morganna during that skirmish. Obviously there was more than Merlin's magic at work. Every beastie in the area that had an ounce of magic blood in it had awakened or had decided to move towards their fight. What ever was calling to them – did not matter. What mattered was that Merlin was obviously angry and distracted during the fight. If he had been able to concentrate better, maybe Morganna would not have had the luxury of having enough thought to turn her attention at Arthur.

Gwaine didn't want to say anything. He didn't want to mention the magic. He wasn't sure if they suspected Merlin or not. It was his duty to protect Arthur when Merlin was to busy to stand directly by Arthur's side. It was his duty to make sure that Merlin felt secure. Merlin had made him want to live in Camelot. He inspired him to want to be a knight. He needed help protecting Arthur and he entrusted that job to Gwaine and a few other specially picked knights. However, Gwaine wanted to think he was more than just a bit of sinew and a blade. After all, Merlin smiled more at him than he dd at Arthur. That proved they were best mates, right? Arthur might be his destiny, his other half, and practically a brother to the boy – but despite all of what that implies it does not compare with the confidence of a best mate.

They fought through all sorts of beasts that were hell bent on tearing each other into pieces. There were lights stinging harpies, clouds of bats falling prey to icy looking birds, as well as serpent-like creatures that fought with wooly looking bear like things. Anything and anyone who got within a certain distance could be swept within the melee. With three servants along, one of them being his Merlin – who was injured, it was a difficult task trying to get everyone through alive.

When Gwaine saw signs that Merlin was helping them, his heart nearly burst from his nerves. Beasts would fly backwards. Whirlwinds would clear paths. The sides of the road would shake furiously and the beasts would scamper off either in fight mode or in flight. Merlin was taking a huge chance. Arthur had him mounted on his horse, so that he could keep one arm around the boy's torso. Either Arthur was incredibly dim or Merlin was incredibly brilliant or it was a little of both – because to Gwaine – it was obvious. Merlin was doing magic and he was doing it while sitting in Arthur's lap!

"Ventis placet!" yelled Merlin raising his hand and then a creature burst from the path by a gust of wind pushing it away. Then the boy slapped his forehead. "While we were out here I should have picked some Ventis placet!"

_Yeah right, Merlin_, thought Gwaine, _like that's a name of a plant? _ _Are you nuts?_

Of course Arthur bought it. "Merlin, even if you did think of picking some. We left our supplies behind."

"Still," grumbled Merlin. "I should have thought of Gaius's needs."

Gwaine's mouth was dry.

"Ventis placet!" Merlin cried out again, his hand thrusting out at another creature who once again was vanquished from the path, "is very helpful!"

With that Gwaine lost the battle as nervous giggles over took him. He cleared his throat and added, "I think it's very helpful indeed."

Arthur, making some excuse as Gwaine had been helping Gaius, nodded as if he had heard of the plant which prompted even more giggles. Merlin joined in, his laughter was softer. He was hurt, but the warlock's very nature was one that melded easily with mirth.

Upon arrival of the questing party sent the castle servants into a fever pitch of activity. Even close observers would miss the subtle glances that the core members shot towards George who, with the the briefest of expressions, propelled the support offered to the exhausted and battered. Merlin slid gratefully into Gwaine's protective arms, away from Arthur – but refused to be brought to Gaius.

"I'm fine really," the warlock protested as he brushed himself off and headed back towards the gates unobserved by Arthur who was giving orders to Leon about an emergency meeting of the knights. Morganna was coming and on her heels – was the great dragon. Gwaine was about to sweep Merlin to Gaius regardless of his friend's protests, but there was something about the way the warlock was leaning on him. He was tense.

"Merlin, mate, what...?"

"I-I can't pretend anymore," sputtered the magical wonder as he pointed over the walls. Smoke. A lot of it. Merlin was shaking his head furiously as if he wanted to deny what was going on. "The chaos is out of control. If I don't do something major, I-I'll lose everything. I might keep Camelot safe, but Albion – will fall before it's even been born."

"But..."

"I know. Magic is still outlawed. Uther is still alive. I'll be sealing my doom," muttered Merlin, "I just don't have a choice, Gwaine. Don't do anything stupid. Don't help me. Don't say anything. You never knew. Do you understand me? You never knew! Tell George this as well. Gaius knows better already. We've already had this discussion." Merlin was half begging and half floundering an attempt to sound commanding. Gwaine reached over and ruffled his friend's hair. Merlin's eyes were bright with tears and his lips were trembling. He might be tall – but emotionally he was a vulnerable little boy.

"You are really … something," confessed the knight, his eyes bright with pride.

"Promise me?"

"No," was the toothy reply – punctuated playfully with a wink.

Merlin slid away from Gwaine's support just to half crumple on the spot as if the weight of his responsibilities was finally going to crush him. One hand supported his light frame on a bent knee, while the other knee rested fully on the ground. The warlock began muttering softly, but Gwaine realized that these were not the strange words of magic. He was hearing half of a conversation with someone he could not see or hear.

Gwaine noticed George making a beeline for Merlin, but he grabbed him by his arm and pulled him aside. He would abide by some of Merlin's wishes. Grateful blue orbs gazed at him before a look of determination covered that brotherly love.

"_Mer_lin!" Arthur shouted – noticing his manservant hadn't gone to Gaius. "I'm to gather the knights to have a quick war council. We need to organize. I need you to be looked over by Gaius before I know if I can allow you to shadow me..."

There was a roar from outside the castle gates and then a huge explosion. Kilgharrah and Morganna were battling. The civilians started to panic and dash towards the more protected areas of the castle.

"This is...one of those times when it is your time to listen," stated the warlock calmly.

George stood like a statue at Gwaine's side. They stood silently against a wall. Servants threaded their way between the main characters and their audience – but it didn't matter. The tension was palatable. Without thinking Gwaine slipped an arm over George's shoulders and gave the man a shake, even though he was the one who needed the reassurance.

"We have no time, they are here!"

Arthur was annoyed and Merlin was frightened. Even though the boy shook in his shoes, his voice was calm. Honesty poured from every gesture as the boy threatened to buckle from the burden of voicing his secret.

"Arthur, you can have your meeting, but this isn't your fight. This fight – isn't for the sword. This fight c-c-can only be won by magic. This fight isn't Camelot's," the words had stumbled out like water rushing over stones.

The young Pendragon's face was fatigued, "We don't have magic on our side!" Arthur hadn't mean to spit the words with such venom, but he was still angry at Emrys's performance back in the Darkling Woods.

"I have magic," blurted Merlin. There was an explosion and a shockwave that nearly knocked them all to the ground. Merlin had reached out to steady Arthur and himself, he dropped the blonde's hands and looked deeply into royal eyes, "I needed to say more. I wanted to say more. It's too late. I have to go out there. I'm sorry, Arthur. I'll explain later. I'm going out there."

Gobsmacked Arthur stood while Merlin quickly turned and sprinted all by himself towards the gates and beyond them. The guards were in the midst of closing them – as peasants were still filing in for the hope of taking refuge. He just stood there for what seemed an eternity.

The skies above were gray and were staining with black smoke that was rising from something burning near by. Embers were already beginning to fall to the earth. Fire patrols would have to be dispatched with buckets so that none of the timber roofs would catch flame. Cries from sentries were alerting others and the warning bells were ringing. Gwaine wondered if the bells would ever stop.

Gwaine felt his heart crackle under the burden. One wrong word and it would shatter.

Arthur shook his head and lifted it. He finally noticed Gwaine and George and marched up to them.

"You!" he snapped pointing at George, "Get Gaius, tell him I need to speak with him immediately."

George swiftly breezed away. He did not run, but the manservant certainly knew how to elegantly move as quickly as possible. The graceful stride disappeared in a matter of seconds through a doorway.

Arthur shook his head and gave Gwaine a sad smile, "That idiot. We need to get this meeting over with and then go out and rescue him from his folly. After this I'm going to keep him so busy he won't even have time to scratch an itch nonetheless do anything as foolish and pretend that he is a sorcerer. I have no idea what nonsense he's gotten himself into but there is no way someone like _Mer_lin could be any good at magic."

Gwaine nodded mutely.

"It is just like that idiot to go and try to pick up magic to try to help me. I've tried to toughen him up by sparring with him, but he just never got any more – fighting fit! I had no idea he was so keen to help me like this. I'm ashamed. I must have failed him if he thought that I was so weak that he would have to resort to magic to help me one day." Arthur's voice was sad. He clapped Gwaine on the shoulder and pushed him along. "Lets to the Round Table my friend. Do not worry, he's clever enough to evade her. You saw that yourself in the Darkling Woods, but I'm afraid if he attempts magic – he'll get himself into big trouble."

"I need a drink," confessed Gwaine.

"As do I," agreed Arthur – totally missing the point.


	24. Chapter 24

"I don't think my old heart can take much more of this," confessed Gaius as he and George stood side by side as the knights dashed off gallantly on their mounts towards certain doom. Only one knight turned to the pair to gave them a sardonic shake of his beautifully wind swept hair, before he urged his chestnut to speed up so that he could ride closer to the head prat.

"Come to the kitchens," suggested George as he looked towards the greying sky overhead. "Lets get out of the damp and the gloom. We'll have a cup before we set up a medical room on the ground floor."

"But, it'll take time...," protested the aging physician.

George grinned and bowed elegantly, "Leave it to me." He remained bent over but he raised his head enough to look Gaius in the eyes. It made his usual calm face look – sly. "Organization is what I do best."

The elderly man shook like a lone withered leaf in the first true winter winds. Stubbornness kept him hanging on, but eventually all men fall to time. For now, he'd brave the harshest season of his life and he would do so just to cling to the spring of hope that his Merlin brought to him. A cool smooth hand took his and led him through the maze of servants corridors to the warmth of a steady chair near the meat roasting spits. A cup of tea that smelled of mint, rosemary, and faintly of rose hips replaced the hand that had brought him here. The subtle perfume was soothing to his nerves and very soon – Gaius's nerves calmed.

"They say Arthur is the bravest man in Camelot, but the bravest man in Camelot is the one who serves him," declared one of two servants as they stumbled into the kitchen. Gaius recognized them as the two servants that had gone on Arthur's stupid little quest. "Merlin's amazing - I tell you, he gave Arthur a hard time. I've never seen anyone speak to a Pendragon like that before and not be thrown in the dungeon! We all know how Merlin talks to Arthur but this time he went even further! He even challenged him to banish him!"

Gaius heart was, a detached piece of lukewarm meat in his chest, threatening the end.

By now the kitchen staff, eager for gossip, pressed the brothers for details. Merlin's heroics were praised by one and all. The head cook wrapped her two large arms around her plump frame, hugging herself. "He's too reckless that one. Morganna is not one to mess with! Even when she did not have magic there was an intensity to the woman that set my caution on high!"

"Well, _we_ all know Merlin's _special_," said a very pretty maid in honeyed tones, "He always has been. Isn't that right, George? Yet, there is not much we can do for him. He's so handsome and smart. He was seen running back out to face Morganna alone? What should we do? I, for one, would like to keep supporting Merlin with my best."

Gaius watched as George breezed across the room to check the pantry and then breezed to check the barrels of grain. The servant raised his neat head and then flowed back to Gaius's side. It was difficult to watch George's movements without being impressed. The man was Merlin's opposite – physically. He was grace itself.

"My Lord is fond of apples. We should bake apples with honey with barley and oat crumble. Cinnamon he has tasted and he liked it. I think Camelot would not mind if it rewarded the efforts of its favorite manservant with a bit of that for seasoning. If he is injured, we can make it into a sauce and add it to porridge. He'd like it that way as well. Mary, we could use some of your vegetable laden chicken soup and we'll need chicken stew with high seasoning. Merlin might have returned Arthur's palate into something more reasonable, but I think he'll need something special as well. We will need herb baked bread and we'll need some warm spiced wine, but make it weak - get as much alcohol out of it as possible. We want the taste not the effect. Oh and mead, honeyed mead for the knights. Roast chicken dinner for our court physician, what do you say to that Gaius?" asked George who suddenly stopped listing things. He actually eased himself into a chair next to Gaius. With his head held high, he grimaced. Theatrically, George really knew how to command an audience, "We need to prepare for _the worst._"

_The worst. _ Someone dropped a pan.

"George?"

"Merlin _told_ Arthur," explained George.

* * *

No one has ever been able to walk into a nightmare. Sure, one can walk into a bad situation. That situation can be nightmarish. However, when awake – reality lacks a special element that only dreams can bring. True horror.

Yet this is what the brave warriors of Camelot were doing. They were entering a battle that they could not possibly hope to win, as they had time and time again. If the gods were kind, they would return with fantastic stories for the pub. If they were not, the pyres would burn and maybe one or two good-looking young ladies will have realized their missed chance, or at least, that was the hope of the vain.

Smoke curled it's black and white tendrils around the open battle ground like snaky tendrils. It curled and folded around the Morganna's fake warriors menancingly, as if it was the embodiment of a dragon's promise. Kilgharrah flew another tight circle around the witch's forces, his wrath conveyed in roars and in fire. Fury burned behind his eyes and they flashed in the golds of ancient power as he unleashed yet another attack at the unnatural magic user who had dared touch his dragon lord.

_His _dragon lord, who had been slowly making his way through the chaos towards Morganna with Aithusa flying over his head, chattering in dragon tongue. The slim boy commanded such power, but he was immature. He was just a hatchling. He was too precious to lose and there was no way, not now, not after they finally truly became kin – Kilgharrah was going to let the boy come to any harm. Kilgharrah roared his anxiety and frustration as he released another frenzied attack of vengeful fury at the witch.

Merlin raised his head towards the sky and commanded, "Caelum Plorabit!"

Kilgharrah would have rounded on the boy had he not had to maneuver past one of the witches hexes. She could not do any real harm to him, but on the off chance she did find one spell to be helpful in grounding him – he did not want to be incapcitated. Instead he shouted, using the words of the humans, "Merlin! NOOOO!"

The "NOOOO!" was much louder and forceful than intended. The witch's head snapped in the direction of the frail looking figure, who approached her without fear. Merlin's face, normally bright with a smile, was dark with disgust.

Kilgharrah could see from his vantage point that Arthur was trying to intercept Merlin's attack on Morganna. With several mighty pumps of his wings, he increased his speed and lay down a magic wall of fire to keep the Once and Future King away from the fight. This wasn't one of Destiny's fight, this was magic gone mad. Even Kilgharrah had been teetering on the edge of madness, it was Merlin who kept him bound to semi reasonable thoughts.

However, the rain that Merlin pulled from the sky, wasn't any ordinary rain. Merlin could safely cast any other elemental spell except for water. _He doesn't realize what he is_, grumbled the dragon as he attacked a sphinx. The beast was incanting riddles as it delievered it's blows to any creature in it's way. Kilgharrah would not allow it near Arthur. The stupidity of the royal family of this kingdom was really ... puzzling. Arthur would one day be a great king, no doub, but he would never be known to be a great thinker. Warrior, yes. An example of intelligence? No.

_Kilgharrah, please tell Arthur and the others to leave, this is no place for men without magic._

It wasn't a command, it was a request. Merlin had said, please. There was no way that the great dragon could have found a way not to comply. Since Aithusa had blessed their lives, their relationship had become solidified. Dragon and man had shared and acknowledged the need for one another. Merlin risked everything, had called forth a new life and ignited the fires of hope. More than that he ended Kilgharrah's solitude and had not just become his master, a dragon lord, but he truly had embraced his role as kin.

Kilgharrah landed on the ground and strode through the other beasts, swiping at them with his giantic frame. He approached Arthur arrogantly whilst keeping an eye on his dragon lord from the corner of his vision.

"You there," Kilgharrah impatiently addressed the group of men, "You should leave this place. This is not foretold as one of Camelot's battles. If you persist you will die."

Horses reared and the men raised their swords.

"I think you know that you cannot hurt me with your puny weapons," snorted the ancient beast.

Without hesitation Arthur moved to the front, he put himself between the dragon and his men. He was as foolish and as brave as he needed to be, but Kilgharrah pitied the young man. Merlin had always lamented over Arthur's slow moving intellect. "Dragon! I am Arthur! I.."

"Oh do shut up, I know who you are," grumbled Kilgharrah giving one of his more disapproving looks, "This is no time for a chat young one – and if I have to – I will force you back to your protective walls of Camelot. Does Camelot wish to provoke my anger for a second time? It is only because of the command of Emrys that you live today. He halted my assault, but I do not promise that I will not anger again."

He couldn't actually do it – he couldn't attack them or Camelot, but the treat hung in the air. The threat of the violence erupting directly at Camelot instead of magical creature vs magical creature was sobering. Arthur hesitated. He held his sword and thought about the creature's threat, "We will return to Camelot. Just allow me to rescue my manservant, Merlin. He is the skinny man over there, who is foolish enough to challenge the Lady Morganna."

Kilgharrah let out a bark of laughter, surprising the knights. "Oh, yes, I'm familiar with your _Mer_lin. He belongs here more than you do as he is also a creature of magic. Now begone! This is a battle that you cannot fight and would not understand. You do not have magic and you would be swept away in the chaos," He advanced menacingly, the armored men pulled their horses back, "Leave this place. I will return your _manservant _to you – alive. I cannot say the same for your knights. I can only protect one – not many. Leave!"

Arthur hesitated. He looked at Merlin who was standing fifty feet away from Morganna who seemed to leak malice. The rains were making the field unstable. The horses would slip, many would break a leg. They would have to fight this on foot, it seemed impossible. It was impossible.

"Merlin's no sorcerer! He's going to get himself killed attempting magic. I need to take him away from this battle!"

Kilgharrah growled.

Arthur slumped and visibly re-pieced together his courage under the scrutiny of the great dragon.

"Do I have your word?" demanded Arthur, "My court physician once told me of a time when dragons and their dragon lords served the kingdom. You are an ancient creature – at one time in your life, you must have served as well. My father betrayed you. I know this, I've seen the records. If you are still noble at heart, your word is still honorable. Do I have your word that you will return Merlin to me?"

Kilgharrah used his great body to clear away some of the smaller creatures, his body was covered in fireflies as it was in the Darkling Woods. He sat back on his haunches, cocked his head to the side and gave his version of a smile. "I give you my word, Arthur Pendragon, I will return your manservant, Merlin, to you - now leave this place and do not _interfere_."


	25. Chapter 25

The ancient magics of the earth stirred like a disturbed wasp nest. Merlin could feel the buzz and tremor of agitation from every creature around him, he felt the vibrations in his feet, and he could taste the magic as it swirled around him. The rain he called down had quenched some of the fires and would keep flying embers from sparking wild fires, but he realized too late that he might have chosen a different way of doing it.

He could see Kilgharrah advancing on Arthur and the knights. Only Gwaine looked at Merlin's kin with respect and not fear. The others were frightened. Even Arthur who normally puffed himself up when facing a powerful enemy, looked intimidated as Kilgharrah granted Merlin's request.

After the last red cloak retreated back through the gates of Camelot, did Kilgharrah launch himself back into the air to continue his aerial assaults. He was majestic personified. Beautiful. Every muscle was a magical miracle. Merlin wanted to kiss the hands of the dragon lord who called forth his unusual friend from his egg, but those hands were had turned to dust long ago.

"You survived!" Morganna's ability to notice the obvious made her just as astute as Arthur.

It would have been easy to mock her lack of brain power and because of that - Merlin held his tongue. When a door was being held open, a wise man did not walk through it just because he can. No. A wise man chooses when to walk through doors even if they need to be smashed down. There was no pressing need to distract Morganna. She had stalked her prey to the very steps of Camelot, despite her fears of Emrys.

"How do you keep surviving? What luck you must possess!" Water dripped down her face. Morganna had to push and attack at advancing creatures that threatened her, but no creature threatened Merlin. In fact, the only danger to him was being accidentally swept into the melee. To her eyes it might have seemed like fireflies fluttered around him and some settled on his hair, but these were no mere fireflies. These were his own personal body guards that he could not shake off. These were the Sidhe.

"Forgive us, Emrys," one small voice pleaded with him. They had broken their arrangement and that had released his dragon kin from their hold – however they were only being held as a token of faith that Merlin would keep his promise. His promise was still on the line and to coax the warlock, the Sidhe were working to please him.

"Quiet," muttered Merlin. "Not another word. We'll discuss it later."

He could feel the mood of the Sidhe around him – lift.

Merlin did not want their help in this and muttered how annoyed he was at their interference.

Sprays of earth and water erupted from struggling beasts, Morganna shrieked and scampered out of the way. With a sweep of an arm, a clearing opened. Her men were falling and their numbers were diminishing, she looked as if she were wilting.

"I'm not easily taken down, Morganna!" cried Merlin. His hands limp at his sides, sparking in the golds and blues of the immortal Sidhe. He sniffled, he had never wanted this.

Morganna raised her hand and barked out a spell, but it was slow and it was weak. Merlin stepped out of the way and it sizzled through the air past him to blast a serket instead. He felt the warmth of the spell as it passed and involuntarily smiled. It was nice to know that there was something about her that hadn't frozen over. At least her hatred, burned.

"Why won't you die?!" Morganna screamed and then raised her hand, examining it. It was pinker and fleshier than it had been. Even from a distance, Merlin noticed the change in her as well.

Kilgharrah, circling above, called down, "It was foolish, young warlock, to bring forth the rain. The fires are magic and will not spread the way a normal fire will. Dragon fire only burns it's target. Our fire is to vanquish the unholy. We preserve. We protect."

Morganna's men continued to fall, but none replaced them. Their eerie habit of standing up after being "slain" had stopped. She began to pant and back away.

"Warlock. Warlock? Where? Emrys? Where's Emrys?" she cried looking around her in search of the elderly figure she associated with the name. She nearly tripped over the hem of her filthy dress.

"A flower might need water to survive. A cut flower briefly hangs onto life, sucking what ever water it can get through it's stem drinking greedily," Kilgharrah was being chatty. Merlin smiled fondly at his elderly friend wondering if the great dragon had suffered a head injury in the melee. "The witch is an exotic flower. Self cut. Water is the last thing she wants – especially not that which you have brought down upon us all."

"Oh. OH!" exclaimed Merlin, slapping himself on the forehead. "Oh, no!"

"Yessss," was the smug dragon reply, the word slipping viciously past dragon teeth. "I suggest you move quickly, young warlock. You do not need the cup itself as a priestess would – do you not realize?"

Something under the mass of unkempt hair must have clicked for Morganna's now pink face, paled. She started cursing and slinging magic frantically, "What are you talking about? Merlin, you're not talking to a dragon are you?"

"Isn't it obvious? I have magic," shrugged Merlin who raised a hand and caught one of her spells in the palm of his hand just as Nimeuh had done to one of his so long ago. Instead of hurling it back to her, he blew on it and it transformed into a butterfly that fluttered off over the battlefield. It was red and gold, the colors of his beloved Camelot. "Morganna, what have you done to yourself?"

"Why are you talking to a dragon, Merlin? What plot have you been hatching with Emrys against me? Isn't it bad enough that you tried to poison me?! ME! I was supposed to be your friend!" spat the witch. Panic began to bloom on her face like a flower in spring, it was almost beautiful since it was a more human expression than her hatred. He was getting sick of her rank temper and her nastiness.

_'She's getting a good wash,'_ thought Merlin and with a surge of horror, he realized that she was suddenly much cleaner, even her dress looked mended. Her hair was untangling before his eyes, as slick as it was from the rain. It no longer looked like a rats nest. Morganna felt the change, she ran a hand down her shapely frame. It was less haggard than it was.

_It was happening, again. My magic is obeying my thoughts without my consent._

"You gave me no choice. I wanted to help you, but I couldn't – so I didn't." The truth was hard to say. He was far more comfortable making excuses than he was at being honest. He was having a hell of a day.

"You're not even sorry!" Morganna shouted. "What could YOU have done for me? You know nothing about real magic! So you can do a few spells, what does that mean? I'm a high priestess of the Old Religion as was my sister, Morgause! You couldn't hope to understand what it's like to be me!"

A small chuckle bubbled out of Merlin's mouth, "You couldn't be more wrong. I said I have magic, Morganna. I should have said, I _am _magic. You never caught on. You weren't supposed to know. No one was supposed to know," Merlin's voice was low and deadly now. His eyes were burning with gold. He stepped towards the witch. Somewhere in the distance a fae wailed over an impending death, peasants referred to such creatures as banshee, but Merlin knew better. Another fae raised its voice and then another. Soon all Merlin could hear was a death knell. In this field, the balance of the world would be restored for the life giving rain he had called down. The very life giving rain that was rejuvenating Morganna before his very eyes – demanded a price and he would hand deliver the payment.

Merlin leaned back, thrusting his palm at the sky. His face pointed at the heavens and he screamed the words he never thought he would.

* * *

"You know, George, I feel rather bad," confessed one of the stable hands as they moved tables into a room normally reserved for balls and grand events.

"What did you do?" asked the reserved manservant.

"Remember when Merlin first came here and Arthur sent word around for everyone to stop doin certain jobs? Y'know, the dirtier and most annoyin jobs?"

George nodded.

"Only recent, when Merlin got hurt, did we take up our original duties. I was muckin out the stables yesterday thinkin about it. Merlin's really done so much while well y'know."

George knew all too well. Merlin had been handling Arthur, reigning in his temper, and bringing stability to Camelot – while doing an impossible load of duties.

"We cannot allow Merlin to be overworked again," George stated softly, "He doesn't even get paid extra for it. He hasn't gotten a pay rise since he started. Arthur had tried to drive him away, but had grown fond of the boy despite the fact that he did not want to have a servant who would challenge him."

"Yer not tuggin' my trouser leg?" asked Tim, red-faced and sweaty from his exertions. "Merlin isn't even paid fer it?"

"No, he wasn't compensated for his efforts."

Tim and George settled the table that would double as a make shift surgery table, if needed. Tim wiped the sweat off his brow. George surveyed the room cataloging the essentials in his mind, deciding what else they would need.

"George, can ya do me a favor?" Tim asked – doing his own survey of the standin manservant and unofficial servant to Merlin.

"What can I do for you?" asked George politely.

"Can ya at least sweat?"

A maid burst into the room with a little more bounce than necessary. "Don't bother!" she yelled. "The knights have returned. No one is hurt!"

It was a relief. George smiled, "Well then we'll have a celebatory feast in here instead. All we need are some table clothes and chairs."

"Can't celebrate yet," the maid said whilst wringing her hands.

"Why is that?"

"Merlin's still out there. He's fighting alone. One of the guards told the baker that the great dragon forced Arthur and the knights to return without him."

George frowned, "Millie, Tim... if you wouldn't mind setting this up as a feasting hall for the knights and Arthur, I would be very grateful. I need to check on a few things."

* * *

Arthur and the knights stood on the battlements, positioned and ready for trouble. He would honor his promise and not interfere with the battle, but if the battle spilled over and into Camelot – he would take action. Before him was the very nightmare that his father struggled for over twenty years to destroy. His father thought that he had eradicated most of the magic from the kingdom and yet here it was in full fury.

The storm – the wounded beast that was the Old Religion's anger. A corporeal magical being created from the pain and hatred of every magical person and magical beast that Uther had killed had, for now, disappeared. The druids had told him that the Old Religion would require a compensation to quell the creature. The creature, the storm, would seek out and try to destroy the King of Ages out of spite. Not because the King of Ages did anything in particular to the Old Religion, but because that King also known as Emrys – was destined to suffer as no other being before or after him.

Arthur did not quite understand what that had meant, but he had felt pity for the warlock. He had until the warlock used Merlin as a shield! If and when he met Emrys, that man would have a lot of explaining to do.

Arthur watched as Morganna struggled with the creatures in the vicinity, while Merlin merely stood and chatted with her. The boy had his hands calmly at his side. His expression was calm. There wasn't anything about his posture that said that Merlin was in any way frightened. This enraged Arthur.

Someone had been tutoring Merlin in magic. For all he knew, it was Emrys himself. Gaius wouldn't dare do it. He had seen the purge. Uther had made him suffer enough pain and humiliation through the years because of magic. Gaius was intelligent as well, he was too intelligent to mess around with that kind of nonsense. However, Merlin confessed he had magic and now the idiot thought he could take on Morganna. If it weren't for the chaos around them – she would focus on Merlin and he would once again be thrown to the ground, or incinerated or something!

And then she struck, or at least she tried to – several times. One of bolts, Merlin caught in his hand. Arthur was impressed and yet horrified. That was a very dangerous spell, or had he cast a spell? And then – it finally happened. He saw Merlin do magic. Merlin transformed Morganna's attack into a red butterfly and let it fly off over the battlefield. It flit awkwardly in the rain, Arthur couldn't see if it made it very far. He doubted it. Merlin made it after all. Arthur wanted to laugh.

_Some powerful sorcerer, he can make butterflies! Oh yes, my mighty protector can do some pretty amazing stuff!_

They exchanged a few more words. The rain made for lousy vision, but they were close enough for Arthur to be able to see Merlin's eyes burning with a familiar and eerie gold. Merlin's face darkened, it was an expression Arthur had frequently seen on knights before they entered a melee. A shrill screaming begun and then more screaming joined that voice. Percival shuddered and whispered, "Banshees." The sound was enough to liquify bones. It was the sound the promised death.

Arthur watched in horror as Merlin thrust a hand over his head. His friend's body was glimmering with fireflies – just like the great dragons. Apparently these were magic fireflies for the rain had not driven them away. Merlin was shouting. The words could not be heard from this distance, but it was obvious what he was doing. He was casting magic.

_I failed him. I drove him to this_.


	26. Chapter 26

_I failed him. I drove him to this_.

Just briefly, Arthur glanced a thought off of how Merlin was always giving him advice. Advice about love and about combat. Advice about how to be more in touch with his people. The simple farm boy had much wisdom, wisdom that Arthur thought Merlin had learned as his mother's knee. However, it didn't make sense how such a wise person would travel down the road to magic – for his sake.

The lankiness of the boy was exaggerated when he raised a hand above his head as if he was about to pull something out of the sky. Merlin had leaned back and shouted something at the sky, Arthur wished that he could hear the words. What ever Merlin had said, it was something powerful for all the creatures around him stopped fighting.

Arthur closed his eyes, trying to wipe the away the image of Merlin doing magic. He could not unsee what he had already seen. When he opened his eyes, that were a little too moist, he saw Merlin advance on Morganna. A small white dragon flit close by to the boy, darting back and forth behind Merlin's back, posturing as if it were a mightier and more frightening creature.

The great dragon landed and is on cue, it and the other creatures on the field bowed at the boy.

_I failed him. I drove him to this_.

He wished there were no witnesses to this, but all the knights were present. Each one was drinking in the reality, just as he was, that Merlin had magic. He wasn't sure what to do. He might need them if something happened, but then again this was Merlin. Merlin had an uncanny amount of luck even if he was an idiot. Granted he was a wise idiot, but he was still an idiot. A faithful, loyal, trustworthy idiot, and he was a terrific friend as well.

Morganna struggled to keep to her feet as Merlin advanced, she was staggering backwards and still attempting to sling spells. The rain was still falling and Arthur could see the mud and the water sloshing around Merlin's boots. Merlin, coated in fireflies casually deflected her attacks. The more she tried, the angrier she got.

_I failed him. I drove him to this_.

"Take her out!" yelled Gwaine, snapping Arthur's focus into a horrible realization. Merlin was actually winning without much effort. It was great and it was horrible. _Morganna... Morganna... brought this on herself. Right? Morganna..._

She kicked mud into Merlin's eyes. He had gotten to close. He was trying to wipe his face when she unleased a massive spell. It nailed him in the chest. The great dragon immediately attacked her. He had been flying over head and now he had landed between Merlin and Morganna and was violently slashing at her. He took a deep breath. Arthur recognized that posture and yet he was still surprised when the dragon released his terrible flame. Morganna screeched and then a whirlwind appeared. She retreated towards it and in a flurry of wet whipping hair and tattered dress, she was gone.

Merlin, however, hadn't fallen. He'd only gone down on one knee. One hand on his face one on his chest where Morganna had hit him. He seemed confused. The dragon turned slowly towards him. Arthur wanted to scream in terror, but the sound wouldn't come. It would have been a foolish thing to do, the dragon had after all given it's word. He picked Merlin up in his clawed paws and took to the air. He flew casually towards the battlements and released a still crouching, but complaining Merlin near Arthur.

"Don't disappoint me, young Pendragon," the creature warned and took off to the air again.

The creatures on the field began to move off.

Merlin's fireflies abandoned him. Arthur swooped down just as Gwaine did. Both of them grabbed an arm and hauled the farm boy turned sorcerer to his feet.

"Are you alright, mate?"

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I had her! I didn't think she'd try to blind me with mud," said Merlin mournfully. His voice laced with disappointment in himself. "I'm sorry, Arthur – Gwaine – everyone. I disappointed you all."

Leon's stern face broke into a half grin, "Seeing you do that, I never expected you to return to us so humble."

Merlin gave a weak laugh.

"We can socialize later, lets get him to Gaius," Gwaine stated pulling Merlin from Arthur's grasp. Merlin's arm slid out of his grasp, but he swore the boys fingers half closed on his gloved hand as Gwaine pulled him onto his shoulder to bolster him onto his feet properly.

_I failed him. I drove him to this_.

"Yes, good idea," Arthur said. He knew he sounded exhausted, but he didn't care. He felt like he had been the one on the field. It took all of his strength not to run out there and scoop his manservant back into his protection. "Get cleaned up, Merlin."

He should have said more. He wanted to. Merlin sadly nodded his head. His eyes still closed against the mud that was still streaming down his face. The rain was washing him clean, but he needed Gaius to clear the sand out before it damaged his eyes.

As the two retreated, Leon – a wet God of War stepped up to Arthur and suggested that they all go into the castle. It sounded like a really good idea. Arthur was surprised he hadn't thought of it. Of course they should go in and get dried off. He allowed Leon to lead, but the white dragonet caught his attention. It flitted towards one of the windows where George looked out. Obviously he had seen everything, Arthur was grateful for the rain or others would realize that he had been in tears.

A thought struck him as powerfully as the lightning that had almost ended his best friend, _George. Perfect George... Could he be Emrys?_


	27. Chapter 27

Merlin, now fully sighted, bruised over a good portion of his body, and exhausted – allowed his caretaker and mentor to fuss over him. The medication that was gently massaged into his skin was supposed to help with the bruising, but it was Gaius's gentle touch that eased Merlin's pain. The warlock struggled against the involuntary sighs that over took him – as Gaius conquered his physical discomforts.

It would have been even more soothing had he not been partially undressed in front of Gwaine. Merlin would never admit it, not to Gwaine or Arthur or anyone else – well maybe his mother – but there was a certain shame he felt about not sharing the same physique as the "save the world" types. Ever since Gwen had pointed out, so long ago, that Merlin just didn't suit the role of hero – he'd been keenly aware of his less athletic frame.

Secretly, he tried a little.

When ever Arthur gave him physical labor to do, Merlin did his best to complete the work. Only when his schedule got tight or there were other pressing matters to attend to – did he cheat and use magic. However, no amount of hauling or laboring put any more muscle on his frame. No amount of sparring with Arthur or his men did any good – nor did it improve his reflexes.

Merlin was doomed to have a slighter more delicate body.

Showing his body to anyone who did have a heroic physique, just made him feel embarrassed. It was like admitting he was weak. Sure, Merlin knew he would be the most powerful man who would ever walk the earth, but he just didn't look reliable. It bothered him.

Gwaine filled Gaius in on Merlin's exploits while Merlin tried not to lean into a very pleasant shoulder rub. To the warlock's surprise there were no lectures about revealing his magic. There was no advice. There was no making of escape plans or suggestions of them. Instead Gaius's ministrations were even more gentle and delicate than before - as if he dared not to add any discomfort to Merlin's being. The damage however had already been done and there was no taking it back. Merlin had preformed magic in front of an audience and Arthur had been in that audience.

There was still so much he wanted to do with everyone.

Merlin half turned his head so that he could watch the rain from one of the windows of the make shift hospital wing that – thankfully – was not full. It was partially set up as a dining hall, as if the staff had expected a bloodless outcome. Merlin smiled, he knew that George was behind the preparations. They would have to clear out before Arthur and the men were directed here for a meal. Merlin did not feel like joining them. In fact, he was waiting to be arrested. It had been a tough decision. If he hadn't done what he had, this room would be full of people. There were so many times he could have prevented death and injury, but he had to keep his secret safe. He kept his secret safe for Arthur, for Camelot, and for himself. Now, he had sacrificed everything.

Gaius helped Merlin pull on a clean shirt after he was done. He patted Merlin on the shoulder and told him that he was so very proud. The warlock shook his head without thinking, tears building up in his eyes, and with much trembling.

"I need you to do me a favor, make sure that my mother is taken care of?" Merlin softly pleaded.

* * *

"Admit it, you're Emrys," challenged Arthur at a very stoic faced George, who was just finishing helping Arthur change into warmer dryer clothing. His armor, lay wet and waiting for servicing, was still beaded by the rain.

"Sire, I don't think I understand?" was the prompt and professional response.

"You don't make sense. You know too much about what I do, what Merlin does, and what everyone in this castle does! No one can be as accomplished and perfect as you are. You taught Merlin magic behind my back and even though you've been helpful – you've snuck around in the background doing what ever you wish for as long as you could. Admit it, you're the warlock!"

George stood still. In all of his training and preparation for the job of manservant, he did not quite know the protocol for contradicting a noble. Arthur had just commanded George to admit to something that was false. Arthur wasn't asking for the truth, he just wanted his version of the truth confirmed and that was something that servants did all the time for their masters.

"Sire..."

"You can't deny it!"

It was enough. It was a true command.

"As you wish, Sire."

* * *

Arthur accompanied by two knights stomped to the makeshift hospital to find that Merlin wasn't there. Frustrated, because he did not want to walk all the way up the flights of stairs to Gaius's chambers, he began to double back to his own chambers. However, his thoughts were heated and his head felt hot. He turned around midway and hurried himself to the physicians door.

The palace was in an uproar. The nobility were screaming for blood. They wanted Emrys reigned in. Whether he was protecting Camelot or not – magic was illegal. They were frightened as well as furious. Apparently Aggravaine had been interrogating everyone for information, even the nobility, about signs of a magic user. His actions had stirred unrest. Everyone feared the secret warlock.

Arthur had taken George into custody. George had not quite admitted to being Emrys, but he had no denied it. All he could say were irritating phrases, _"Sire cannot be wrong. As you wish, Sire. If you that is what you wish, Sire."_ The perfect servant couldn't answer in any other way. Arthur did not throw the man in the dungeon, if he was the warlock there was no need to alienate him. However he did have George confined to his quarters. The polished response was accepting. Of course... George merely stated that this would be a good opportunity to clean for himself, for once.

Nonetheless, Aggravaine had assigned two knights to accompany Arthur around the palace. He said it was for security. Emrys was an Oath Breaker – according to druid writings and this meant that no vow, even the vow of service was not to be trusted. It was unknown if Emrys might turn on them. Aggravaine demanded to interview Merlin, declaring no thread should remain unraveled – but Arthur stepped in. He wanted to be the one to talk to Merlin. He did not approve of his uncle's mannerisms and if Merlin were in one of his... girlish... ehm.. senstitive... ehm... emotional moods – well then he wanted to be the one talking to him. He had to handle it personally. He was guilty of doing magic and he needed to be spoken to about that.

He just hoped that Merlin would be calm. He was bound to panic, cry, and maybe even try to disappear. No, Merlin would never leave him. Merlin already promised that he was Arthur's servant until the day that he died. Arthur held back a chuckle. He really needed to patch things up with Gwen, work out their problems and then marry. At this rate, he had already gotten a _until death do us part_ promise and he really did not fancy the only truly committed relationship in his life to be that between himself and his manservant.

"Stay outside, do not listen. Do not interfere," Arthur commanded as he placed his hand on the handle and froze. He didn't want to do this. He had to do this or someone else would do this. Arthur fought turning around again. _Indecision is not royal,_ he told himself as he listened for noises within. However, he heard nothing. Perhaps they hadn't returned "home" yet? Arthur took a breath, swallowed, and pushed the door open.

The occupants were in, but were not talking. Instead they were sitting at one of the benches, both with a mug in hand. Merlin's eyes were red and puffy and Gaius was pale. Neither were startled by the sudden intrusion. Arthur's manservant gave his master a weak smile in greeting.

"So there you are, you lazy bum," forced Arthur. He gave an awkward smile to Gaius, who thankfully looked just as upset as he felt! The elderly man sputtered a greeting. He put down his mug and took up one of Merlin's long and thin hands in his and gave it a squeeze. Merlin caught his breath and nodded.

"Sire, I have some medicine to deliver... Would I be permitted to... well, as it's not me you've come to see," Gaius struggled against the words. He'd not taken his eyes from the welled up watery eyes of his ward who's trembling lips tried to smile.

Arthur admitted it was probably best to have this conversation in private. Merlin winced, but did not do much else other than continue his impression of a trapped rabbit.

Gaius poured a fresh mug and put it on the table, gesturing to Arthur that it was for him.

Arthur thanked him.

Gaius left.

_Gods, this was awkward!_

"I am really sorry I never told you, but I couldn't tell you. Magic being illegal and everything. The timing was... well, never right," confessed his manservant. Arthur's chest felt full, the pride he had in his friend was overwhelming. _Merlin would always be brave when he should be scared. He would be scared when he should be brave. If he was both, the bravery would win in the end._

Arthur smiled, "I'm sorry as well. I'm sorry I drove you to magic. You do know that all the times I called you a girl... I didn't really mean it? You are one of the bravest, most trustworthy, loyal and you are a stubborn ... devoted .. friend," Arthur remembered his father's speeches when he would talk about friendship and love – feelings. He said these things to everyone he needed to apologize to, instead of saying that he was wrong. He had done it to Arthur and Morganna. The "you mean too much to me" lecture that excused his cruelty and his unfairness. Arthur swallowed awkwardly, if only his father had not taught him that an emotional Pendragon was a lying Pendragon, he might have been able to tell Merlin the truth.

"You didn't drive me to magic," corrected Merlin. "I've always have had magic."

"But, George? Didn't he teach you magic?" Arthur asked confused.

"George?" Merlin laughed softly, shaking his head. "How could George teach _me _magic?" Merlin scrubbed at the tears that were threatening to fall.

Arthur took a sip of the simple honeyed mead that Gaius had left for him. He already did not like the way this conversation was going. Merlin sorrowful was taking the full blame. As he had tried to do many times. He had confessed to using magic time and time again for the sake of saving lives. Once again he was covering for another, although now Arthur was obligated to take him more seriously.

It wasn't, how could _George_ teach me magic? Or even a how could George _teach_ me magic? It should have been, how could George teach me _magic? _

"I admit he is much more skilled, as a manservant, than I am – however I've always considered myself more like your domestic body guard."

"George didn't teach you magic..."

"Arthur," Merlin's tone was back to its normal mothering flavor, "Arthur, he is marvelous at everything, especially polishing, but I assure you... George doesn't have magic. He couldn't have taught _me_ anything."

Arthur shook his head, this wasn't going the way he had planned.

"Honestly, Arthur. Excellence isn't a sign of magic," scolded Merlin. "Why is it that people assume that having magic means being perfect? Or being able to do anything? Magic's not like that. Magic is – well think of it as a possibility. Or you could think of it as a probability? Well, actually that's not fair, just because I can – sometimes make something happen, doesn't mean the _average_ magic user can."

Arthur felt cornered. The room was smaller than it had ever been before. Gaius had never been as well stocked before. There were barrels of powdered herbs, large glass jars of oils, and pots of growing plants around the place – that seemed to press their presence more dominantly. Arthur doubted he had ever seen this room so well stocked.

Merlin coughed, not to get his attention. Hastily he drank from his mug and put it down delicately. He coughed again and pulled a face, "Arthur, I hope you can accept my apology for not telling you."

"Who taught you how to do magic?" demanded Arthur. "Someone has to be responsible. Someone had to have taught you. If it wasn't George, which is very hard to believe that it wasn't – then who? Who is responsible for you being able to hold off Morganna? If you could do all that, why didn't you do anything in the Darkling Woods to protect yourself better? Why did you just merely dodge her? Why..."

"I've only interfered when I had no choice, Arthur."

"_Mer_lin?! Who taught you magic? I promise I won't do anything to them."

Merlin sniffled, but he did not divert his eyes. His gaze captured Arthur's own. The room became even smaller, the walls pressing in against Arthur. He longed to be outside. He wanted air. He could barely breathe and when Merlin answered, his world shattered, "Arthur, I've always had magic. I was born with it."

"Impossible," barked Arthur. "Gaius has told me that a person is either born with the potential or not, and that ability depends on the natural inclination to do or not to do magic. That said, you weren't born with it – Merlin. No one is – no one except for one so-called magical being, Emrys."

"Yeah I know," Merlin's voice was soft and small. He clutched the thin wool blanket tighter around his shoulders. His neckerchief was missing, so the top of bandages that Gaius had wound around the boy's chest showed. The white peak was assuring to Arthur so the gesture of pulling the blanket tighter hid that small sign of weakness. "Believe me, I wasn't thrilled when I found out about the.. Emrys thing, either. However, I cannot deny it any longer."

"Deny it?"

"Arthur, I am Emrys," confessed Merlin, the emotional idiot, with fresh wet tracks lining his cheeks. He rested his head on his hand, splayed fingers caging his tragic face... Merlin fought his tears no more, the tears flowed as easily as the rain fell.


	28. Chapter 28

Arthur made a show of drinking his mead, however it was unknown if Merlin was watching him or not. He still made the gesture. He needed the drink to rehydrate his mouth as such as he needed the mild encouragement that might come from a bit of alcohol, however Gaius's drink was barely enough to soothe a sore throat.

His poor Merlin was breaking before his eyes and as much as his heart went out to him, Merlin was making him angry. It was just like his idiot to protect the real warlock.

"Merlin, don't be ridiculous. I know you. I know what you're like. You don't have to protect Emrys by claiming to be him. You've tried this sort of thing before – you should know better that trying to take the blame for another is not the solution," explained Arthur as gently as he could.

Merlin looked mournfully from between his splayed fingers at his master and hiccuped.

"I'm not hunting Emrys, although I'm not pleased with how he moved you to shield me from Morganna's attack...," admitted the young Pendragon. "But, you are fine. If you weren't, that would be another story. I assure you, you don't have to protect him. I'm sure he will be fine – as he always has been. Magic might be illegal, but I'm not about to track someone down for trying to help."

"Arthur, I am Emrys," stated Merlin, miserably. "I really am him. That's the name that the druids call me. I – I apparently have many names, but Kilgharrah hasn't told me them all."

"You'll have to stop this nonsense before I lose my temper with you Merlin," threatened Arthur. "Just tell me who led you to attempt to do magic. You aren't in trouble. You're too pure for magic to twist your heart."

Arthur meant it. Merlin had drunk poison for him. He insisted on doing it a second time to attempt to save Arthur from the test of the unicorn, but Arthur had not permitted it. How many times had Merlin stepped into battle just to stay at his side? No wonder he learned magic, he was physically weak and couldn't bare the weight of the armor.

"I am Emrys," stated Merlin again – more forcefully, but still miserably. He was biting his lip and his hands were shaking. "I _am_ magic. Even Morganna can't deny that now! Why are you so stubborn? Why's it so hard for you to _see me for what I am_?!"

Merlin slammed his hands onto the table, but it was not that impressive. His delicate hands would never be menacing. Merlin showing aggression was the same as a five year old adopting a boxing pose, it was ridiculous.

Arthur gave his friend a small smile, "Alright, alright, I get it. You've been enchanted to think you're Emrys."

"For the sake of my sanity! Arthur!"

Arthur leaned over the table and patted his friend gently on the shoulder. "You just concentrate on healing up and feeling better. You did a great job standing up to Morganna like that. You impressed me, but Merlin... in the future? I don't want you to risk yourself by entering any fights like that. Magic might be useful, but I need you safe. I don't want to have to rely on George anymore. I miss being attended by my manservant. So many are capable of the job, but none of them are my actual friend. Did you hear that, Merlin? You're my friend. I won't allow anything to happen to you. Magic is against the law, but as long as you promise not to practice it anymore. I'm sure I can get away with ignoring your display of talent – I mean my father accepted Gaius, after all. You're not evil and you never will be – just as Gaius could never be evil."

Merlin slammed his head down onto the table. Arthur was afraid he had knocked himself out, but the boy was still moving. His fingers flexing in frustration.

"I'll ask Gaius to look you over, although I'm sure he's already done that. No more magic, Merlin, I mean it!"

* * *

There was something warming about being worried about someone close, even if worry itself was stressful. Arthur was so grateful to Merlin, not only for his devoted friendship, but for being worthy of worry. He felt warm inside as his feelings crested for the slim boy who was willing to take on the burden of magic – for his sake.

If only there were others so dedicated to him, no, that was selfish. Arthur doubted that anyone other than Merlin could be so Merlin-like. No. This was obviously special. Regular people did not have Merlin's in their lives or they wouldn't need knights, kingdoms, or kings. They got their security from the show of heroic feats. They were cared for by the kingdom. They needed to have faith in their king.

Their king... Arthur swallowed bitterly. Uther. He hadn't seen his father in quite some time and hopefully no one filled his ears about Merlin, magic, or Morganna's latest attempt to kill him. Truthfully, his affections for his father had weakened. His father had betrayed his mother, he had slaughtered so many for associating with magic when he himself had done so, and he took his guilt out for his actions by spilling blood. His father caused so much pain in an attempt to alleviate his own. It was shameful.

The visit was brief. Uther was a shell of what he had been. He had stopped talking. He had stopped eating. Arthur partially blamed himself for not visiting his father as much as he normally would have, but he had a hard time looking at his father lately. He was no longer the man that Arthur thought he was, and sadly – he was never the man Arthur thought he was. Thin and gaunt – but well cared for, the "King" of Camelot lay helpless in his bed surrounded by attendants.

There was no need to worry about Uther hearing about Merlin, there was nothing he could do to him. His heart beat, but his mind had already died.

* * *

**Until Death Do Us Part...**

Days had passed and the castle was beginning to calm down. Arthur had made Emrys public knowledge and assured his people that they had a heroic secret warlock watching out for the kingdom. Speeches and meetings had made his days painful. He longed for a good long ride with Merlin at his side. The thrill of the hunt, the shudder of his manservant as a stag was brought down. Oh yeah, that would make him feel much better.

The dramatic response from peasant and noble alike were starting to wear on his nerves. His father had done a great job at convincing everyone that magic was vile. This was a fight he would have to win, if Camelot was ever going to stop being a kingdom who stood on the principles of murder.

The rains had stopped.

The snows never returned.

Arthur finally felt as if he could stop worrying about prophecies as his world returned to being what he expected instead of the constant stress filling surprise party.

Once again, George woke Arthur, though. Merlin still had not returned to his work and until that happened, Arthur would not feel true peace. He needed his friend and his insights. He needed Merlin's honesty. He needed Merlin's presence.

"Where's Merlin?" demanded Arthur, past caring whether or not George would take offense. The perfect manservant was quiet. Arthur regretted accusing the man of magic. Thanks to his father, there was an understandable amount of fear that George must be feeling even after Arthur apologized.

"Sire, Merlin...," faltered George. The usual crisp stance was slightly relaxed, not enough to be that noticeable if done by any other person, but for George – he was practically slouching. "Merlin has left us, Sire."

"Excuse me," Arthur could scarcely believe what he was hearing. "Repeat that?"

"Merlin no longer resides in Camelot. He has left."

"He must be visiting his mother. He should have asked permission," remarked Arthur.

"No Sire, I assure you that I heard it from Gaius himself. Merlin has taken his possessions and he has left Camelot, Sire."

"I'm _happy to be your servant till_ the day I _die,"_ Arthur whispered, alarmed. He sprang from his bed and then hesitated. If Merlin was going to his death, he wouldn't have taken his things with him. He sat down dejected. Then a wave of realization hit him and his breath hitched._ Merlin had broken his oath. ____The Oath Breaker__, _he really was ___Emrys._

* * *

_The End._

_– I'm starting a sequel._

Any and All feedback for this story: writing style comments, plot comments - will be appreciated. Everything - teaches me something.

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There was no room for all that I had planned for this fiction. However this was the perfect place for this story to end.

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The sequel will have those elements/subplots that I had wanted to put in this one. However if I had, I'd have strayed from the point: **Merlin -Not Arthur - Merlin.**

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I hope you'll continue to read my writing attempts. The sequel will be named, **Merlin - The Oath Breaker**


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